Building Bridges
by Silver Thunder
Summary: Yata's college life was supposed to be all about learning from his awesome welding instructor and hanging with his friends. Fushimi just wanted to get through his year-long contract as a TA without losing his scholarship in the process. As it turns out, life doesn't always go as planned.
1. The Party

**Building Bridges**

 **The Party**

College parties, Yata decided, were not nearly as awesome as he'd been led to believe.

Of course, he'd probably feel differently if his friends weren't acting like jerks. _Can't believe they all ditched me._ He swallowed a mouthful of the beer he'd snagged from the fridge - another thing that wasn't nearly as awesome as it should've been; it was fucking gross, actually - and scowled around at the people in the tiny building that apparently was the meeting place for whatever this club happened to be. There were six people crammed onto a three-person couch, one guy perched on the back with his legs hanging down; a group in the kitchen laughing about something or other; a couple of people dancing sloppily in the middle of the hallway; and various others milling around in various states of drunkenness.

Chitose, whose idea this had been in the first place - as a way for _Yata_ to supposedly get talking to women in casual situations before he started his apprenticeship and "stepped up into adult life" - was cozying up to some girl in a corner. Dewa, Fujishima, and Eric were all nowhere to be seen.

Fucking assholes, all of them. Yata leaned against the wall behind him, glowering out at everything in the general vicinity. They were supposed to have his back, and instead they all flaked off, probably finding girls of their own and heading off for drunken makeouts that he was never going to get.

 _Too bad Kamamoto couldn't make it._ Then at least _someone_ would've had the decency to hang out with him. But Kamamoto had a _date_. With his _girlfriend_. Which made him One Of Them, so he got a piece of Yata's (completely justified) resentment, too.

This had been a dumb idea, anyway. Yata had known that at the time – he was fucking underage (not that anyone cared, since no one was policing the drinks anyway) and he was moving into the dorm tomorrow, which was going to suck if he ended up hung over. Granted, he was - supposedly - crashing on a futon at Fujishima and Eric's dorm tonight and his step-father wasn't even available to help tow all his stuff over until after noon, but still!

 _I should just leave._ It wasn't like he was making any progress; his few interactions with any of the girls there mostly involved accidentally being jostled, stammering apologies, and staring at the ground like a complete idiot. And there wasn't anything interesting going on. Maybe if he'd had friends with him, it'd be different, but...

Yeah. Fuck it.

Decision made, Yata pushed himself away from the wall and started toward the exit.

His timing wasn't good. He was just passing by one of the doors along the hallway when a tall girl in a very revealing outfit turned in from the kitchen, nearly colliding with him. Yata instinctively dove to the relative safety of the wall, stammering out an apology – but instead of flattening himself against a solid surface, he fell backwards through the door and missed the three steps leading downwards into the room entirely in favor of landing flat on his ass on the floor.

The door, which had hit the wall when he crashed through it, swung back over to slam shut.

"Shit..." Yata pushed himself up to his knees, wincing.

To his right, someone snorted. "Idiot," whoever it was mumbled, almost under their breath.

With all the crap he'd already had to put up with that evening, there was no way Yata was feeling civil enough to let that pass. "What was that?" he demanded, hands already curling into fists as he jerked his head around to glare at the stranger.

Said stranger, a dark-haired guy with glasses, pale skin, and a slender frame, raised a condescending eyebrow at him. He was sitting cross-legged on a couch that looked awkward and out-of-place in what was obviously a storage room, surrounded by varying towers of boxes. "You've got another word for someone who can't walk down a hall without falling into open doorways?"

"That - that wasn't my fault! There was a girl..." Yata could feel an uncomfortable heat rising on his face, and quickly steered away from that subject. "Anyway, what about you, hanging out in empty rooms at a party, huh? Creep."

Glasses Guy clicked his tongue at that, looking vaguely annoyed, and deliberately turned his eyes back to the cell phone in his hand. "Go away."

"Yeah, don't have to tell me twice." He scrambled to his feet and hurried up the stairs to the door, eager to get the hell out of the whole stupid place. _Fuck Chitose and all of his dumb ideas._ Grabbing the doorknob, he gave it a confident turn.

... only to have it twist right off the door into his hand.

Yata stared dumbly at the object on his palm for a moment, unable to quite fathom the extent of his bad luck. As the reality started to sink in, though, he felt his frustration rising. "Fucking _goddamnit_!" He hurled the offending object across the room, barely registering the loud crack it made when it hit the cement floor, and turned back to pound on the door. "Hey! _Hey!_ We're stuck in here - someone open up!"

Glasses Guy let out what sounded like a long-suffering sigh. "Of all the idiots in this house..." he muttered, and then raised his voice a notch. "They can't hear you."

That much, Yata had more or less reasoned out for himself - the heavy base from the music seeped through into the room, making it feel like the whole place was vibrating. " _Shit!_ " he swore, and kicked the door, slamming his hands against the frame with helpless aggravation. "This fucking _sucks_!"

"That's one way to put it," Glasses Guy mumbled, and made another annoyed-sounding click of his tongue.

 _Great, and I'm stuck here with this stupid asshole..._ Yata turned his head to give his fellow prisoner a baleful glare. He might as well have saved his energy - that unimpressed gaze was still fixed on the cell phone and didn't spare him a second of interest. He scowled for a moment, without noticeable effect, and then turned his gaze back to the door and considered his situation.

One - there was a slim-to-nil chance of anyone at the party opening that goddamn door before the next morning. The room was obviously being used for storage, and unless there was beer stashed in among the boxes or someone needed a place for a quick booty call or something, there was no reason to.

Two - he'd forgotten his cell phone at Fujishima and Eric's dorm, and to be honest, he wasn't sure if his friends would even pick up if he called them. Except maybe Kamamoto, who wouldn't be of any real help.

Three - there was no TV, book, or even a goddamn _magazine_ anywhere in sight.

Four - Glasses Guy was sitting there with the only method of communication with the outside world in his hand, and he didn't look inclined to share.

 _Fuck my stupid life._

Yata sighed, feeling his shoulders slump as he turned away from the door and made his way reluctantly over to the room's other occupant. "Hey," he said, trying for a more conciliatory tone - maybe they'd just gotten off on the wrong foot, right? And they were in this mess together now, so there had to be some way to get along. "Do you think you could maybe call someone to let us out?"

"I don't have a phone with me," Glasses Guy responded in that slow, bored drawl, still without raising his eyes from the device in his hand.

Yata felt his eyebrow twitch. "What the hell do you call that, then?"

"This?" At that, he did look up, and turned the item in his palm. There was no logo visible anywhere, although the simple touchscreen design did look like a typical cell phone. "It's not a phone - it's a custom console with data collection software built into it."

"A what?"

Glasses Guy was giving him a flat stare, clearly not happy with the interruptions. "It pulls information from various available sources in response to simple queries," he responded anyway, turning the device back around to fix his attention on it again. "I didn't bother bringing my phone to a place like this."

"Huh." Curiosity overrode irritation. Yata sank down onto the couch, craning his neck to look at the screen. It looked like just a bunch of random text on a white background. "Looks confusing. What does all of that mean, anyway?"

The corner of Glasses Guy's mouth turned down; he clicked his tongue again, lowering the device. "It's code, not the front end," he muttered, and swiped his finger across the screen, revealing a plain text entry box. "I'm still making adjustments."

"You _made_ that?" Okay, now that was kind of impressive. Yata stared down at the custom whatsit with something like awe, watching as its owner typed something into the box one-handed and images and text flashed across the screen in response. Okay, so he didn't totally understand what was happening and it didn't seem all that great compared to some of the gadgets out there, but hell - he'd never met someone who could actually make things work like that before. "That's so cool! Hey, did you actually build it, or did you just do the programmer stuff?"

Glasses Guy glanced at him sideways, frowning a bit. His tone was less reluctant when he responded. "I built it."

"Oh, wow, awesome!" Without thinking, he scooted in closer on the couch for a better look. "That's seriously amazing! You really built it, like from scratch?"

"It's not that hard." Glasses Guy slid his gaze away again, directing his frown at the device in his hands.

"Still, it's really cool!" Yata watched him type rapidly into the text entry box again. Something about functions? He didn't really get it, but the screen changed to another listing of items and pictures. "Hey, how does it work? Can you show me?" Belatedly, he realized that he hadn't actually introduced himself to this person he was asking all these questions of yet. "Oh yeah, my name's Yata, by the way. How about you?"

That vaguely bored stare turned his way again; ignoring the other questions, Glasses Guy instead asked, "Yata what?"

That was enough to dampen his enthusiasm. Yata studied that impassive-looking face, wariness seeping in through the edges of his previous interest. "Just... Yata is fine, right? No one calls me by my first name." Hoping to turn the subject away, he prodded again, "What about you, what's your name?"

"Fushimi Saruhiko." A lazy sort of smirk tugged at the edges of his mouth; he raised a condescending eyebrow. "See, it's not that hard."

The sudden switch in the mood caught Yata off-guard; he could feel his cheeks grow hot, and scowled back. "Sh-Shut up! Why do you need to know so badly, anyway?"

"True - I guess I don't." Fushimi raised the device in his hand again, his eyes on the screen as he continued to type one-handed.

Yata watched him for a moment, a little disgruntled at how he'd been effectively brushed off. Fushimi was apparently content to ignore his existence altogether, his attention fixed on the screen of his custom device, effectively cutting off the only option that would make the night anything less than mind-numbingly boring.

Outside the room, the sounds from the party didn't seem to be letting up or winding down in the slightest.

 _There's gotta be something else in here..._ Yata pushed himself up off the couch again, glancing around at the boxes in the room with something like desperation. He normally wouldn't go rooting through someone else's stuff, but given that he was likely to be stuck in this room for hours with someone who clearly didn't want to give him the time of day, this definitely counted as an emergency situation.

Anyway, if they didn't like it, maybe next time they should fix their goddamn shitty doors before having a party.

 _Whatever._ He picked a shelf and a box at random, and reached out to pick it up, lifting the whole thing out and setting it on the ground to open up and rifle through. _Let's just get this started._

Unfortunately, most of what was in the boxes wasn't going to qualify as 'entertainment'. There was obviously a reason why most of this stuff was still in storage rather than unpacked and out in the main section of the house. Within about five minutes of searching, Yata had unearthed some of the weirdest bookends, lamps, figurines, bongs, and questionable-looking items that had him wiping his hands on his pants reflexively after brushing up against them.

He didn't actually know much about the club that used this house (hell, he didn't even know what club it actually was), but he was now just a little too uncomfortably aware of some of its members' personal habits (past personal habits?) to ever consider joining.

"The fuck even is this?" he muttered, pushing back a box with a vaguely dragon-like object that he really hoped was a countertop decoration. After some of the things he'd found, he wasn't sure at all. "These people are weird as hell."

That earned him a derisive snort from the direction of the couch. "Someone who casually goes through other people's things shouldn't make judgement calls, should he?"

Yata scowled at the back of Fushimi's head. "Shut the fuck up - what the hell am I supposed to do, since you're being all pissy and not talking to me?" He turned back to the shelf he was currently making his way through, bending to look at one of the lower tiers. "I need to find something - aha!"

At the back of the shelf, hanging out all innocent-like, was a crate with some promising-looking bottles. Yata dropped to his knees and hauled it out, relieved. _Fucking finally._ Alcohol wasn't exactly entertainment - but at least it was likely to take the edge off, if the things he'd heard about getting drunk were actually true.

 _Hopefully this crap doesn't taste as awful as that beer did._ Not that it would stop him if it did. He pulled out a bottle and checked the label - sparkling wine. Fucking score. And the cap wasn't one of those stupid corks, either; he could just twist it open and drink.

Fushimi glanced over at him when he made his triumphant return to the couch, frown deepening when he noticed what Yata was holding. "Doesn't that count as theft?"

"It's not like anyone else is drinking it!" Somehow, that dull tone put him on the defensive. "Anyway, I'll pay it back - this isn't exactly super expensive. The price tag's still on it, see?" He tilted the cap over so the little white sticker was visible.

The expression on Fushimi's face was typically unimpressed. "And what if it's a hundred years old?"

Yata scowled at him. "Does that sticker look a hundred years old to you? Seriously, fuck off."

Fushimi clicked his tongue, turning back to his data-whatever with obvious irritation. "You're the one complaining I'm not talking to you," he mumbled, then after a brief moment of hesitation, threw in, " _Misaki_."

All at once, Yata's blood seemed to run cold. He stared at Fushimi, something like outraged shock building within him. "When...? How...?"

"Hmm?" The hum he got in response was drawn out, low and mocking, and it came with a smug set of raised eyebrows. "Something wrong, Misaki?"

Something about the way this guy said his name - his _first_ name, the one he hated and took every opportunity to avoid using - curled into a little pit of annoyance in his stomach. Yata glowered back, scowl deepening. "Don't call me that! How'd you even get that name, anyway? I never told you."

"'How'?" Fushimi repeated, in that bland, unconcerned tone, and turned his gaze back to the device in his hand, as if dismissing the question. "I wonder..."

Everything about this whole night fucking sucked. "Damnit!" Yata aggressively twisted off the cap on the bottle. "Screw this place, and screw you, too!" He raised the bottle and defiantly tilted it back to take a generous swig.

Next lesson of the night: wine fucking _burned_ on the way down.

A large portion of what he'd poured into his mouth ended up spewed out onto his shorts, and the rest felt like it had scratched right down the back of his throat. Yata coughed for a long minute, eyes watering as he struggled to recover.

Beside him, Fushimi snorted derisively. "Idiot."

Yata glared at him as he wiped off his mouth with the back of his hand. "I wasn't expecting it, okay? It's not like I drink this crap every day." Or ever, seeing as how he was underage and even one of his older friends owning a bar didn't get him any kind of access to alcohol. But he wasn't going to admit that. "Anyway, I can handle it now." He took another - smaller - gulp from the bottle, bracing himself for the burn, and still couldn't help but make a face at the bitter-sour taste.

"You look like you just swallowed a live scorpion," Fushimi commented, managing to somehow sound pointed and uninterested at the same time.

 _This guy is so irritating..._ Yata scowled back. He could feel the burn from the alcohol still, but it wasn't so bad now. It was starting to feel a bit warm, but not uncomfortable. "Yeah? You give it a try, and see how you do." He held out the bottle, shaking it a bit for emphasis.

Fushimi eyed it with obvious distaste. "Why would I do something like that?"

"Don't want to? Fine." The warm feeling was making him a little more loose and relaxed; he didn't really care anymore what this rude guy was going to think of him. It wasn't like they knew each other. He could say whatever he wanted. "But, just so you know, you're stuck in here, too." That came with a grin. "All night long. Just you and me." He could feel the grin widen even as his eyebrows came down. "And I am getting drunk as fuck."

He got the satisfaction of seeing one of Fushimi's eyebrows twitch. That irritated gaze shifted from the bottle to him and back again, as if he couldn't make up his mind about which of the two was more repugnant.

Then he made another of those aggravated-sounding tongue clicks, and reached out to abruptly snatch the bottle from Yata's hand, lip curling as he wiped off the mouthpiece. "How annoying," he mumbled, and tilted his head back to take a drink.

It was kind of disappointing that he didn't spit it right back out like Yata had done, but the obviously pinched expression as he lowered the bottle kind of made up for it. "See? You just made the same face I did."

"Shut up," Fushimi muttered, and tipped his head back for another drink.

* * *

"... and after that, the whole class totally turned against me! The rest of the semester was hell!" Yata vaguely waved the nearly-empty bottle to emphasize his point. He was feeling pleasantly light, and it was easy to talk about whatever random thing came into his head. "Junior high school was the worst!" He turned his head and looked at his conversation partner earnestly. "Don't you think so?"

Fushimi shrugged in response, and reached for the bottle. "Give me that." His voice sounded more drawl-y than usual, each word drawn out in an almost comical way.

"Oka~ay." Yata handed it over without argument, beaming at him. "You know, you're not such a bad guy. I've been talking all this time, and you listen real good." He bumped his shoulder against Fushimi's, feeling strangely connected to him - but not in a bad way. "And you make cool things, and you seem really smart, and you've got this _super cool_ aura, it's like..." He leaned onto Fushimi, waving his hand around without restraint. "Shhhha! You know?"

"Who would know from that?" Fushimi pushed back against his shoulder, forcibly moving Yata back to his own side of the couch. "It's just a random sound you made." He tipped his head back to take a drink and then fixed Yata with a blurry-eyed squint. "You're annoying, and you talk too much, and the things you talk about are boring and stupid." Then he blinked, and for a moment looked vaguely confused. "Why does it feel warm when you talk?"

Somehow, that struck Yata as hilarious. "Warm!" He laughed almost giddily, leaning back against the couch and rolling his head back. "Talking isn't warm, stu~upid."

"Shut up," Fushimi mumbled in response, shoving the bottle back at him. "Drink."

"Thanks! You're the best!" He took another long drink, letting out an exaggerated sigh when he finished. "And, y'know, if you want a turn to talk, you should just say it." Impulsively, he leaned back in and threw a friendly arm around Fushimi's shoulders. "Feel free to tell me allllll about you, I'll listen."

The expression on Fushimi's face as he looked slowly back and forth from the arm draped around him to Yata's face was pretty much a perfect cross between 'I just squashed a bug with my bare foot' and 'what the hell is even going on?' "Why should I have to do that?"

"Well, I just sorta kept talking... I feel bad, ya know?" It had just been so easy to talk somehow, and Fushimi actually looked like he was sort of listening, even though at first he'd tried to pretend he wasn't and had just gotten worse at pretending as the bottle got emptier. "I told you about my family, and about my best friends, and stupid classmates who were jerks, and how I'm doing welding with the greatest welder ever, and I can't talk to girls..." For a second, he forgot what he'd been trying to say, and just blinked at Fushimi's face - then it came back, and he grinned. "... and you listened real good, but then you said shut up, so that means you wanna talk now, right?"

"... so annoying." Fushimi's mouth twisted as if he was trying to make that tongue-clicking sound, but he couldn't seem to manage it. He tugged the bottle out of Yata's hand again and took another drink.

"There it is again - shhhha!" Yata waved his free arm with enthusiasm. Being close like this was making him feel kind of excited. He couldn't remember why he'd been so annoyed with Fushimi before - wasn't he an interesting guy? Making custom devices from scratch, and figuring out Yata's name without being told, and acting so unruffled even when everything went wrong... "If you don't wanna talk, it's okay - but I really wanna know about you."

Fushimi eyed him blurrily for a moment. "Why?"

The question made him blink. "'Why'? I'm interested in you." It was such a simple thing; he didn't know what made it so difficult. "You're really cool, and I want to know more." It struck him that maybe he was being kind of pushy, and he scrambled for a moment, a little edge of panic somehow spinning up through the fog over his brain. "Youuuuu don't have to tell me if you don't want to! I'm just - I'm just saying..."

The way Fushimi's eyes narrowed, eyebrows coming together against a line above his nose, it was like he was looking at some kind of tricky puzzle or something. "What 'more'?"

"Huh? Oh." For a second, Yata's train of thought kind of derailed - he quickly tried to put together something to ask about. "Uh... uh... uh, so, what - what are you going to school for?"

There was a noticeably relaxing of tension in Fushimi's shoulders at that. "Computing Science."

"So, like that stuff you did earlier!" Yata grinned a little to himself, feeling his mood go up with the successful exchange. "Is this your first year or second? You're the same age as me, right? I'll bet you didn't skip a year like I did, though, did you?"

"Shut up. Stop asking so many in a row." The bottle was shoved back into his hands again. "Second year. Nineteen years old. And you talk too much."

"You're just saying that because you don't" - he took another drink in between words, without really thinking about it - "talk enough." Still, he was answering, and that was good enough. "Hey, okay, so where are you from? Does your family live near - ?"

" _Why_ " - The sudden interruption was a bit startling; Fushimi reached over and yanked the bottle back out of his hand, more forcefully than he probably needed to - "did you say you came here?" He shifted in Yata's hold as if to put some distance between them, pointedly focussing on draining the rest of the wine into his mouth.

"Uh... right. Um." Somehow, his thoughts had scattered; he settled for mumbling out the first thing that came to mind. "I think... drunken makeouts... or something..."

"Huh?" The look Fushimi shot him in response to that seemed to be trying for scornful - and somehow had hit closer to 'are you some kind of alien or something?' "'Drunken makeouts'..." he repeated slowly, and snorted. "Idiot virgin."

"Wh-What?" Yata felt a rush of heat rising to his cheeks at that. "You didn't have to say it like that..." He withdrew his arm from around Fushimi's neck, hunching his shoulders defensively. "A-Anyway, it wasn't my idea! I told you I'm bad with girls, so - "

" - so you made plans to get drunk and make out with them," Fushimi interrupted, in an overblown imitation of his earlier bored drawl.

"That's why... like I said..." It was hard to organize his thoughts when he was this flustered - and his head felt like it was covered in cotton. Yata balled his hands into fists, scowling at Fushimi. "It wasn't my idea!" he repeated, hotly.

Fushimi adjusted his glasses, turning to look him in the face again. "That's what you said you came here for, right?"

"That was just..." Yata flushed again and deepened his scowl, feeling a little bit tingly under that cool-eyed gaze. He didn't think it was all from the alcohol, and it was kind of weird. "Whatever, never mind!" He snatched the empty bottle from Fushimi's hands. "I'm gonna go get us another one."

Pushing himself abruptly to his feet, he very suddenly learned two things he'd never known about alcohol.

One: a single bottle of wine between two people who had never drank before was _more than enough_.

Two: trying to stand up quickly after drinking it was a _bad_ idea.

Yata's vision swam alarmingly; his knees gave one feeble, warning wobble, and then, with a yelp that sounded embarrassingly high-pitched, he toppled sideways across Fushimi's lap. The breath left his lungs with an audible 'whoosh', and he lay there for a second gasping for air and trying very hard not to puke as the world spun around him uncomfortably.

Fushimi made a kind of halfway strangled-sounding noise, and then abruptly started to laugh.

"Hah..." Yata braced a hand on Fushimi's knee and shakily pushed himself up, turning his head in time to catch a somewhat blurred close-up view of his conversation partner's face as he continued to snicker uncontrollably. For a moment, he just stared, blinking rapidly to clear his vision. Fushimi's pale face was flushed, head bent forward slightly, eyes closed behind his glasses, and mouth twitching as his shoulders shook.

It was a sight that blanked out Yata's brain and made him gape, and he couldn't say why.

Fushimi's fit seemed to subside then, and he opened his eyes to meet Yata's gaze. There was still a hint of a smile on his face. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

The question didn't sound hostile. Yata shrugged, feeling a bit awkward about it. "Dunno. You were laughing and... stuff. I guess." He realized he was still halfway across Fushimi's lap and hastily moved to push himself back into his own seat. "Ah, my bad - sorry!"

He was still in the process of clumsily shuffling away when Fushimi said, in such a quiet mumble that he almost didn't catch it, "Misaki."

"Eh?" That brought his gaze back up - Fushimi's face was still really close to his, which was kind of startling, and Yata blurted on without thinking, "I told you, don't call me that."

"Mm," Fushimi responded, not really agreeing or disagreeing. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, eyes wavering a bit, and then jerked his head forward, tilting it to the side just in time to avoid bumping noses before pressing his lips to Yata's.

The contact was like a sudden jolt of clarity through the foggy haze of Yata's thoughts. The stinging-strong scent of alcohol assaulted his nose. He could see the red-tinged side of Fushimi's pale face and one of his closed eyes. A warm huff of breath brushed against his cheek. And Fushimi's mouth touched his, softly, clumsily - a very brief and very awkward bump of a kiss where neither of them had properly puckered up or anything.

He still felt it with his whole being, as if the sensation echoed all the way through to the tips of his fingers and the ends of his toes.

Fushimi pulled back after barely a second had gone by, as jerkily as he'd gone in, opening his eyes to staring at Yata with a mix of confusion and fascination, like he couldn't believe himself that he'd just done it. "So it's like that..."

It took a few tries for Yata to find his voice. His brain was practically a war-zone, and his face was already heating up like a furnace. "Wh-Wha... Wha... _What was that_?" he blurted out desperately, despite the fact that he knew exactly what that was. He'd been kissed. Fushimi had kissed him.

His _first_ goddamn kiss. Ever.

The expression on Fushimi's face seemed to close in on itself; he frowned, and successfully made the tongue-clicking noise. "Who knows," he mumbled, and turned his face forward deliberately, reaching up to push his glasses up over the obvious flush on his cheeks that may or may not have just been from the wine. "I felt like trying it."

" _Hah_?" Yata gaped at him. His first kiss, and _that_ was the reason? For real? "What the hell kind of reason is that for k-k-kissing someone?"

"Feel free to make up your own if you don't like it," Fushimi drawled back at him, and pulled off the glasses he'd just finished pushing up, folding them up and stowing them in the breast pocket of his button-up shirt. "I'm going to sleep." He crossed his arms and deliberately sank back against the couch.

Somehow, Yata managed to recover his wits at that. "Like hell!" He grabbed a handful of Fushimi's shirt, giving it a harsh tug. "You can't just _kiss_ someone and then go to sleep!" His efforts were ignored; Fushimi was limp in his hold, eyes closed, apparently content to be shaken like a rag doll rather than admit to being conscious. Yata glowered at him, feeling vaguely murderous. "Bastard..." he growled, voice low. "I know you're not sleeping..."

The haze over his brain had at least cleared enough for him to consider the situation, although he had a sense he probably wouldn't have jumped right to his next course of action if he'd been sober. "Fine! If you're going to be like that..." He gave Fushimi's shirt another tug, pulling him down to a convenient angle, and leaned in. "Challenge accepted, _Saru_!"

Then he closed the distance and planted another kiss directly on Fushimi's lips.

The rush of adrenaline that had led to him doing it in the first place provided a whole new dimension to the second kiss. When he made contact, Yata was hyper-aware of the pliant feel of lips against his; the way Fushimi sucked in a sharp breath through his nose; the rush of half-anxious excitement that made his skin prickle at the unfamiliar intimacy.

Like before, he barely had a second to experience it - then Fushimi shoved him violently away, glaring at him as he rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand. "Disgusting..."

"You were the one who did it first!" Yata wasn't sure if the heat on his face was from anger or embarrassment; his lips still felt tingly and his fingers were trembling. He glowered in return either way. "So there - how do _you_ like it? Stu~upid."

Fushimi's eyes narrowed; his mouth thinned for a moment - and that was all the warning Yata got before he was shoved back against the arm of the couch and lips were covering his again, this time along with a hand planted square in the middle of his chest. "Mmph!"

He would've totally retaliated - he was already beginning to thrash around - but Fushimi's tongue slid roughly between his lips, and Yata gasped instinctively and then it was _in_ his mouth, and the shock pretty much froze him solid.

It seemed like maybe Fushimi had been hit by a similar shock - maybe he hadn't expected Yata to actually open his mouth, or he'd just been kind of doing it out of spite and hadn't thought much about the results - because he didn't move right away. For a second or two, they sat there tense and still, both breathing erratically, staring blankly at each other's close-up faces, lips mashed together, and the hot, slick weight of Fushimi's tongue pressed up against the inside of Yata's mouth.

This had to be the weirdest kissing experience ever.

Yata was still kind of scrambling to recover his bearings and come up with some kind of reaction - anything, really; fuck, what the hell was wrong with him? - when Fushimi let out a sharp huff of a breath against his cheek and tilted his head a bit, shutting his eyes and sliding his tongue tentatively against Yata's.

It actually - somehow or another - felt kind of good.

The look on Fushimi's face - eyes closed, cheeks flushed - that was actually, maybe, a little bit erotic, too... Yata felt a tiny coil of heat forming at the pit of his stomach and for a moment let himself get carried away by it, eyes sliding shut and moving his own tongue hesitantly to create more of that slick friction.

 _Wait - wait - wait... what?_

A sudden rush of confusion and panic had him pushing Fushimi roughly away from him, staring wide-eyed at the expression of hazy bewilderment that met his gaze. "Wh-Wh-What...?"

Fushimi just stared back at him for a moment, blinking slowly. His face still had that red tint to it, probably mostly from the alcohol, but given that Yata's felt like it was on fire, he wouldn't have doubted if some of it came from what they'd just done. _Fucking kissing each other, with tongue..._ It was shocking, even if he couldn't seem to process all the reasons why. And... even if he kind of wanted to do it again. Yata found his eyes drawn to Fushimi's lips, which were swollen-looking. _This is how someone looks when you just kissed them like that..._

The sight of it fed that hot little thread of excitement in his belly. Yata swallowed, skin prickling, and tried to remember why he'd been so freaked out. His mind seemed thick and slow. The vivid recollection of Fushimi's tongue sliding against his kept intruding; it made him feel tense and strange.

"That face..." Fushimi's low mumble broke him out of those thoughts; when he focussed again, the gaze that met his was narrow and hot. "I like it." He was already slowly leaning back into Yata's personal space; when he spoke again, it was soft and fervent. "I want to see more."

 _More..._ Yata swallowed again, his eyelids already sliding down as Fushimi's face came closer. He could smell the alcohol on the breath that brushed over his cheeks, and it was kind of like being smothered, but he didn't really mind. There was a sort of nagging sense at the back of his head that he really should be thinking this through a lot better, but by that point it was pretty easy to close that part off and ignore it.

The next minute he was surging up to meet the kiss, and his hands were scrambling at Fushimi's waist, and whatever rational thought there was left pretty much flew off into space.

The rest of the evening blurred out into a hot, sloppy mess, but it felt too good for Yata to care.

* * *

"Hey. Sleeping guy." Something prodded at his shoulder. "Wake up."

Yata groaned a little, slowly stirring up from a sound sleep towards wakefulness. He felt kind of dizzy, and he had the vague impression that his face was pressed up onto something. "Whassit?"

"Yeah, party's over." The prodding got more insistent; something shook him. "Come on, get up."

 _Party...?_ Right, he'd been at a party - some club or something at the university. And he was sleeping on a couch - his face was jammed up against the arm, body stiff from the awkward position. The couch in the storage room. Where he'd gotten locked in. With -

 _He was crowded up against the arm of the couch, halfways slouched down with another body pressed over his while his tongue swiped clumsily over the inside of a mouth that wasn't his. It was hot and wet and promising, so good... Whoever the person was moaned, low and smooth, and he ran his hands up over that firm back -_

 _Holy shit!_ Abruptly, Yata shot up - and immediately regretted the light in the room seemed to stab in through his skull on all sides. He covered his face with his hands, groaning again. "Wha... the fu..."

"Ooh, sorry about the hangover, guy." That voice did sound kind of sympathetic; when Yata finally managed to bring himself to squint up at the person who'd woke him, he found an unfamiliar male face offering a pitying expression. "Sucks, but I gotta kick you out - we've got club setup to do before semester starts."

There was a sour feeling in his stomach to go along with the headache now. Yata pressed the heel of his hand up against the bridge of his nose, letting out a shaky breath, and tried to clear his brain a bit. _That weird Glasses Guy. Fushimi._ He opened his eyes again, but there was no one else in the room. "Did..." His voice was froggy; he cleared his throat and tried it again. "Did you see another guy...?"

Hell, he still sounded like he was dying or something. _I am never drinking wine again. Ever._

"Uh, nope." When he looked over at the club guy again, he got a shrug. "Just you."

This was kind of confusing. _How the hell...?_ "The door was broken - we were stuck in here."

"Huh? It was?" Club Guy walked across the room to look at the door. "Oh, fuck, it is. Guess we'll have to fix it. Sorry 'bout that."

That didn't really answer anything. Yata frowned to himself, trying very hard not to think about the pain in his head and the menacing churning in his stomach. "When the hell did he get out?" he muttered, more to himself than anything. Most of the evening was starting to piece together now - fuck, he'd acted like an idiot. And then making out with a _guy_ , who was practically a stranger...

His first fucking kiss, too. Goddamnit. Yata felt his face heat up, and twisted his mouth into a scowl, running his hand over his eyes again in hopes of hiding it. They'd fucking made out on the goddamn couch. Him and some random guy. What the hell had he been thinking? Sure, it had felt good, and he did honestly think Fushimi was maybe a little bit cool, if kind of irritating at times (and something about his face when he was all flushed like that still gave Yata a little prickle just remembering it), but seriously, _what the fuck?_

 _I got drunk and made out with a random guy at a party._ It felt surreal to think about like that, but he had actually done it, and he had the memories to prove it. He was never going to hear the end of this if his friends found out.

"Well, maybe one of the others let him out earlier," Club Guy was saying, oblivious to Yata's inner struggle. "The door was open when I came in. But seriously, dude, you gotta leave."

"Yeah... right. My bad." It was kind of a struggle to push himself to his feet, but this situation was already stupid enough without him looking like a weak idiot in front of a stranger. "I'm going."

Yata's brain was still chewing over the whole incident even as he left the clubhouse and tried to remember which way it was to the dorms. The light from the outside world felt like it was punching holes in his head, but his thoughts just wouldn't shut up. _I didn't... I mean, all we did was make out, right?_ He was pretty sure his clothing had stayed on. He didn't remember touching any of Fushimi's skin, either, and he thought he probably would've had some kind of vivid memory of that if he had.

In fact, the last thing he did remember was Fushimi's face dropping down to rest in the crook of his neck, body going slack and heavy against Yata's left side, and the world starting to feel warm and dark and swirly.

 _So we didn't._ That was something, anyway. Yata scrubbed his face with his hand again as he walked in the general direction of where he hoped the dorms were, scowling to himself. _I thought people forgot things when they got super drunk. Why the hell do I remember all of this shit?_ Honestly, he just wanted to erase the entire series of events from his mind forever.

Well, if he was lucky, he'd never run into that guy again. Computing something was what he was going to school for, right? Yata could barely handle mucking around with the settings on his phone, much less working on an actual computer. And there was no reason someone who did all that programming stuff would ever need to come into the trades building, or Mikoto-san's welding workshop.

He wasn't disappointed about that, either. Not even a little. If he never saw Fushimi Saruhiko again, then... then _good_.

The tiny thread of doubt that came with that thought was firmly shoved to the back of his mind and locked away.


	2. The Roommate

**Building Bridges**

 **The Roommate**

It was hard to say if the light streaming into the campus security's base of operations - which was really just one of the regular club houses, and calling it a base was idiotic - was fuelling Fushimi's insistent headache, or if it was Awashima Seri's disgustingly crisp voice as she reported on the past week's activities.

In the first place, it was pointless for him to even be there. Fushimi typed absently on the device in his hands, purposefully not paying attention to whatever she was saying. He was supposed to be working as a TA, not a security guard. Munakata's sponsorship of the campus security program should not have had anything to do with him.

Attending an irritating club party shouldn't have had anything to do with him either, but he'd been forced to do that, too.

Fushimi's fingers clenched on the device; he ground his teeth against the urge to click his tongue. _That stupid party..._ It was the reason for the headache, and he was beyond irritated with himself for his own poor judgement. The plan had been to make an appearance, take in enough of the place to be able to accurately report to Munakata that, yes, he'd been there, and then leave after the required hour was up. Bad luck had stuck him with a loud-mouthed idiot who couldn't handle something as basic as a door without breaking it, but drinking any of that wine had been his own mistake.

And then afterwards...

"Fushimi-kun." Munakata's smooth, unaffected voice cut into that thought. When he raised his eyes from the device to the professor he'd signed a contract with just recently, he found himself faced with a thoughtful gaze and a small smile. "You attended the rugby club's welcoming party last night, correct?"

He did click his tongue at that, and didn't even bother hiding his irritation. "Yes."

That would teach him to properly read his contracts before signing them. Going over it again after being issued that particular command, he'd been grudgingly impressed by how much the vague wording of the terms actually covered. Apparently, "TA" translated to something like "personal manservant" in Professor Munakata's view of the world.

Fushimi was definitely quitting after the year he'd signed for was over. No amount of spending money was worth this. If there hadn't been a chance that he could lose his scholarship over it, he'd have already dropped the whole idea, contract or no.

"Well, then," Munakata was saying now, folding his hands beneath his chin and leaning forward in his seat with an air of expectation. "What were your impressions?"

 _What do you think?_ "The music was too loud, there were too many people, and they didn't even bother to check whether or not the idiots getting drunk were underage."

Awashima shot him an exasperated look from across the table. "The point was to check that they were following the school regulations for use of the property," she pointed out, with that same cool, business-like voice. It probably made her perfect for her job as head of the security team, but her tone set his teeth on edge.

"I'm sure Fushimi-kun would have mentioned if he'd noticed otherwise," Munakata countered easily. He was still smiling placidly at Fushimi, but there was a calculating sort of look in his eyes.

Then again, there always seemed to be that look in his eyes. Fushimi respected the man's intelligence, but it was unsettling the way he seemed to look right through you. It made him feel too transparent. "I'm not a security officer. You could've sent someone who's trained for that kind of thing if you really cared that much."

Several of the men at the table visibly blanched at his response, and Awashima drew herself up as if to reply, but Munakata waved a hand at her as if to forestall it. "I thought you might have an observation outside of what we'd expected from a trained officer," he explained. "Did anything out of the ordinary happen?"

Some small, irrational part of Fushimi was starting to be suspicious of just how much Munakata actually knew about the night before. His boss had taken an unhealthy amount of interest in him from his first day in Advanced Calculus the past year, to the point of actually offering him the TA position - which he'd initially rejected, obviously out of some well-honed instinct. It was his own fault that he'd foolishly ended up silencing it after he'd thought more about how useful the extra money might be. He honestly wouldn't put anything past the man now, given his knack for ferreting out secrets that he really didn't need to know about in the first place.

 _There's no way he could, though._ Fushimi frowned back at Munakata, mentally going back over the details. It was possible that someone might have seen him in the storage room. They might've even known he wasn't alone in there, and that the door handle was broken (although if they knew that much and hadn't bothered to open it, he would really like to track whoever it was down and make them regret that choice). But as for what happened inside...

No. There was no way anyone could have found out. The only person who would possibly know would be Yata Misaki, and if Fushimi was lucky, he would take that knowledge to the grave. He'd been drunk too, after all.

A sudden unwanted mental image of a flushed Yata with fiery want in his warm amber eyes flashed into Fushimi's head, and his headache seemed to intensify by a multiple of ten.

"I didn't notice anything," he responded, as blandly as he could, forcibly pushing that memory to the back of his mind.

It was better if he forgot quickly. He didn't know why it affected him so much in the first place. There was nothing particularly special about Yata; in fact, he was the kind of person who normally irritated Fushimi. The idea that he'd actually gone so far as to kiss him was especially disgusting. Who knew where that mouth had been? Yata seemed like the kind of idiot who'd licked metal poles in the winter just to see if his tongue got stuck. The idea of kissing him should have been revolting.

But it wasn't, and that was the part that was really annoying about this.

"I see." Munakata seemed satisfied with that response, at least. "In that case, Awashima-kun, I think we can bring this meeting to a close. Unless" - at that, a gleam seemed to appear in his eye - "someone would like to suggest a game...?"

The table cleared almost immediately.

One of Awashima's officers managed to intercept Fushimi before he was able to make his escape out of the house. "Wait - Fushimi, could I ask you something?"

 _How annoying._ He nearly said it out loud, but decided against it at the last minute, clicking his tongue instead. "What?"

The officer - a tall, brown-haired man whose name Fushimi hadn't been given - looked a little taken aback by his tone, but continued on anyway. "There's a group of us going to the food court later on for dinner - did you want to join us?"

Behind him, one of his friends started to cough loudly; someone else made a hushing motion.

 _This kind of thing, huh?_ Fushimi let his gaze slide from the earnest expression in front of him to the ridiculously conspicuous group staring at them from a short distance away. "I'm not interested," he responded shortly, and started to turn back towards the door.

"Wait - " The brown-haired man started to move forward, as if he was going to grab Fushimi's arm - a sharp glare was enough to freeze him in his tracks. "I mean, you're going to be part of the team from today, so we should try to get along, right?"

"That doesn't have anything to do with me." As if he wanted anything to do with their 'team'. Hopefully Munakata wouldn't drag him here often; he was already annoyed with the place. "I'm a TA, not a security guard - don't expect me to work with you."

The determination on the brown-haired man's face wavered a bit, but he still seemed inclined to keep trying. "Still, though - "

"Hidaka." One of the other officers put a hand on the first one's shoulder, and then turned to Fushimi with an apologetic little smile. "Fushimi, we'll see you at the next meeting, all right?"

 _Like it's a given that I'm going to be there..._ Hopefully not. He offered a non-committal shrug in response, and turned to leave. This time, nobody stopped him.

'Part of the team'. What a half-assed reason that was. Fushimi curled his lip derisively. Anyway, it was clear from the reactions of that guy's friends that this was a sentiment that wasn't shared. It wasn't any different from being in middle or high school, in the end - there were always those fakers who wanted to think of themselves as friendly or inclusive; who would go out of their way to try and be nice to the stragglers just for the sake of feeling good about it.

That kind of self-serving nonsense was disgusting to watch; worse when it was pointed at him. _I don't need that kind of thing._

Yata's face pushed its way back to the front of his thoughts again, with its stupidly earnest expression. _"I'm interested in you."_ The simple honestly was disconcerting; he didn't think it had been faked. Actually, Yata seemed too stupid to fake his emotions - doubly so when he was drunk.

 _So, he's just an idiot._

An idiot that Fushimi had kissed - repeatedly, and open-mouthed, which was gross on a number of levels, but still somehow didn't seem that way when he allowed himself to think of what he'd actually done with Yata. The reminder soured his mood even further; he clicked his tongue again, scowling at the neatly maintained line of hedges along the path back to the university buildings.

"Something bothering you, Fushimi-kun?"

The quiet inquiry caught him off-guard; Fushimi glanced to his right, where Munakata had apparently fallen into step without him noticing. "Nothing important."

"Glad to hear it." His boss turned his attention to their surroundings again as they came around the corner, within sight of the Fine Arts building across the small, single-laned street. "I'll be counting on you to grade the initial quiz sheets this week."

At least that actually fit his job description. "Got it."

There was a silence between them that felt a little bit awkward to him - although Munakata showed no sign of discomfort. Fushimi wasn't sure if that feeling was what prompted him, but after they'd crossed the street, he found himself asking, "Do you know a welding instructor with the name 'Mikoto'?"

He wasn't sure if he imagined it, but it seemed like Munakata hesitated for just a split second. When he turned his gaze, though, there was a definite spark of interest in his eyes. "I assume you mean Suoh Mikoto?"

"I have no idea." It was a stupid thing to even ask. He wasn't sure why he was curious about it in the first place - it wasn't like he cared about Yata's life or his school curriculum. The way he'd talked about 'Mikoto-san' was vaguely irritating, too. "Never mind."

"It's no trouble. As a matter of fact, I do know Suoh." It was hard to place the little smile on Munakata's face - but if Fushimi had to guess, he'd say that it was amusement over some private joke. "What prompted you to ask about him?"

Fushimi clicked his tongue, suddenly annoyed with the conversation. "Nothing. I heard his name in passing, that's all."

"I see." Munakata seemed willing enough to take that at face value. "Well, perhaps someday your paths will cross." He looked up at the junction in the sidewalk ahead of them. "I've got a few things to take care of in my office, so I'll leave you here."

"Sure." Just as well - he wasn't sure how much more painful this could get.

"I'll see you tomorrow afternoon, then." Munakata raised a hand in farewell as they separated.

 _That soon, huh?_ "Yeah."

The walk to the dorms from there wasn't a long one. Fushimi took his time despite that, feeling the headache from before - which had somehow subsided while he was talking with his boss - flare up again. Last year, there had been a drop-out, and as a result, he'd had a room to himself. He'd signed on to keep it all the way through the summer, winter, and - most recently - spring breaks, not having any other particular options - it wasn't like he could ask _that woman_ to provide him with a space or anything (whatever legal obligations required her to take care of him would have ended quite some time ago; it was probably only some kind of social expectation that prompted her to pay for his high school entry and boarding fees). In any case, this year he wasn't going to be so lucky; his roommate would be moving in some time today.

The perfect finishing touch on this already terrible day.

He'd handle it, though. The high school he'd attended had included dorms, which was one of the main reasons he'd chosen it in the first place when that woman had impatiently raised the subject. He'd had to deal with all levels of stupidity and annoyance from fellow students - blackmail was usually a handy tactic; almost everyone had a secret or two they didn't want to share with someone - so it shouldn't be any different now. The only unfortunate part was that he'd have to find another private space to work if the roommate was going to spend any length of time in his room. But that was a hurdle he was confident he could overcome.

 _Hopefully I don't get some loud, obnoxious idiot._

Another vivid memory of Yata's laughing face shoved its way to the front of his thoughts. _That again..._ Fushimi clicked his tongue, deliberately putting the mental image aside. He was going to have to work harder on covering up those unnecessary memories.

Fortunately, they were in completely different programs - nearly on opposite ends of the school grounds, in fact. That should be enough of a separation to ensure their paths didn't cross.

If he was lucky, he wouldn't have to interact with Yata Misaki ever again, and this whole thing could be safely forgotten.

* * *

In the end, he took a detour to the Activity Center and picked up painkillers, a few bottles of water, and some energy bars. If his timing was right, the new roommate would already be moved in by the time he returned, which at least would mean he could avoid the commotion. The bothersome prospect of an introduction loomed in front of him, though, and he wanted to avoid it for a short while. There were some outdoor tables by the cafeteria, which was actually not far from the dorms, so he stopped for a moment to take some painkillers and drink some of the water. It was late enough to be past lunch but still too early for dinner, so the area was mostly empty.

Once he'd gotten himself settled and downed two pills, Fushimi reached into his pocket for the data collection device that was his current project. _I should check the background refreshing functionality first._ Opening the program, he went back to his previous searches to bring up an old result.

The cafeteria had a hidden wifi connection for its employees, which included a custom welcome page and links to the rough outline for the next few weeks' menu, as well as some limited employee profile information. The pages were only on the local network, so he didn't have access to them once he was out of range, but they were fully cached for easy access later (it was possible space would become a concern in the future, but he was planning to add options for easy deletion and beyond that it would depend on how much data he really needed to save for later). Just recently, he'd added an automatic refresh that should take place in the background once the application was launched and the applicable network was detected, so this was a good opportunity to check that it was working.

Yata Misaki's profile from the public student database was still up on the results listing. Fushimi clicked his tongue, deliberately scrolling past it before he went for the keyword search. At least there wasn't a picture - although his brain apparently had no qualms about summoning up an image to go with the name.

 _I'll code in the deletion option next._

The refresh functionality was working well - not that he'd predicted any problems, given how simple it was to add. A brief scan of the employee profile page showed a few new workers who didn't yet have their information filled in - student part-timers, most likely. Fushimi glanced over the other listings briefly, noting with some derision that they still contained contact information. It was pretty stupid to have it out in the open like that. Sure, the network was hidden, but they hadn't bothered to protect it beyond that, even with a simple password. Anyone could easily gain access if they knew what they were doing.

 _Well, it doesn't concern me._ The first thing he'd done after accepting the TA position was verify the semi-private teachers' directory to ensure his own information wasn't being published. Munakata's listing contained only the name of his TA and a link to Fushimi's profile in the student database, which was fine.

Unfortunately, the battery life on the device was starting to get low. He hadn't ended up having much time to charge it between coming back to the dorms from the party and then having to leave again to make it to the meeting, and he'd been using it to relieve boredom at both events.

Fushimi clicked his tongue, turned on sleep mode, and stored the device back in his pocket. There wasn't much choice but to head back to the dorms now - if his roommate turned out to be a nuisance, he could at least grab his laptop or cell phone and look for a quiet place to kill some time. The dorm had been a convenient escape last year, but in the end he really only needed to use it for charging his electronics and sleeping.

 _Still, it's annoying._ At least the headache was starting to clear. The idea of eating still made him feel mildly nauseous, but he had the energy bars in case his appetite returned later. Fushimi drained the rest of the open water bottle before standing, and tossed it in the bin on his way out.

Time to check the size of the next thorn in his side.

The dorm buildings were on the southern end of the campus, near enough to the edge of the island that some of the rooms had a decent view of the ocean out of the small window that was in each one. Fushimi's room was one of those, not that he usually took the time to look. There was no parking near the buildings; student and staff parking was in the underground lots, and guest parking was only around the Activity Center. Fushimi didn't have a car, but he had to appreciate the setup, since it meant that there were less annoying vehicles near the dorms. This time of year, though, with students moving in, there had been a fairly steady influx of cars and moving vans crowding as near to the front entrance as they could get.

Fortunately, the busy time seemed to have passed while he was out, though, because the front entrance was clear again when he reached it. The current dorm manager, an anxious-looking woman with wide glasses and messy hair, offered a nervous greeting, which he ignored in favor of heading directly for the elevator.

His room was on the fifth floor, which made the stairs a feasible option when there were too many people crowding around the elevator, but it was nice not to have to bother with that. The remains of his hangover still lingered, and the idea of walking up five flights of stairs wasn't pleasant. The elevator and stair entrances were side by side on each floor, in the middle of the hallway. Fushimi turned to the left and made his way to the second doorway on his left side, hesitating for only a second or two before deciding that it was idiotic to delay the inevitable and trying the door handle.

Not locked. One point against his new roommate already.

That barely had time to register, though, because as he swung the door open, he could already hear said roommate's voice.

His loud, annoying voice.

Loud, annoying, _familiar_ voice.

 _What._ For a moment, Fushimi felt frozen in place, too shocked to process just how terrible his luck was, even as he took in the back of the person he'd been certain he would never have to meet again.

" - wait, hold on, I think my roommate just walked in." That person was already turning, lowering the phone from his ear as he did, an unassuming smile forming on his face. "Hey, I'm - "

In some other situation, Fushimi thought it might have been amusing just how quickly the color seemed to drain from his new roommate's face, that smile freezing into a kind of horrified grimace even as his phone slipped from nerveless fingers, hitting the carpet with a soft thud.

"... Yata?" the tinny voice on the other end of the line questioned, sounding confused.

This was the universe's idea of a joke, Fushimi decided, recovering enough to loudly click his tongue and twisting his mouth into a disgusted scowl. He could feel the vague pounding of the headache starting up again at the back of his skull, and looked away, thoroughly disgruntled now. _Of all the people..._

"You!" Yata blurted, recovering enough to back up a step and point an accusing finger at Fushimi. "Why the hell are _you_ here?"

 _Isn't it obvious?_ Fushimi clicked his tongue again, stepping into the room and dropping his bag beside the desk that still held his laptop and textbooks. There were a few boxes stacked haphazardly in a corner by the beds, and he wondered idly if Yata was going to be a messy roommate or if he'd just not had time to finish unpacking. "I live here."

"Don't 'ch' at me! Of course I figured that much out!" Yata's ears were turning red, and it wasn't obvious whether it was anger or embarrassment. "Are you seriously going to tell me _you're_ my roommate?" He'd lowered the finger, but his eyes were wide, hands curled in front of him as if to demand some explanation. "How is this for real?"

"You're telling me," Fushimi muttered, under his breath. This had to be the worst development of the day. His drunken mistake and his annoying roommate - one and the same. Perfect. "The top bunk and this desk are mine. My clothing is in that closet there." He nodded sharply at the cheap standing wardrobe on the other side of his desk. "If you're too loud and annoying, I'll report you to the dorm supervisors."

Yata stared at him incredulously. "The fuck? That's all you have to say?"

Somehow, that response was making him feel a bit better - an angry Yata was easier to deal with than... the alternative that he didn't want to consider. Fushimi crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow condescendingly, deliberately trying to draw out more of the same. "You were hoping for something specific, then, _Misaki_?"

"Don't call me by that name!" Yata's glare was deeply satisfying, too. It was like he put every fibre of his being into it. "It's creepy as hell!"

Being able to elicit such a reaction was strangely exciting. Fushimi felt his heart pounding, and wasn't entirely sure what to make of that. "What?" he drawled, trying to brush it aside. "You hate that name, huh? Misaki?"

"Shut up," Yata growled, with fire in his eyes, and it was hard to deny the way that look made Fushimi's body tremble and his breath catch in his throat.

 _"I'm interested in you."_

 _For how long, I wonder..._

There wasn't really a chance to examine that line of thought, though. "Damnit! I can't believe this!" Yata reached down to snatch up his phone with obvious frustration. "Why do I have to share a room with _you_ of all people? And after something like that happened, too..." The last bit came out in an embarrassed mutter; there was a noticeable line of red across his nose.

The reminder was enough to turn the mood awkward. Fushimi felt an odd sort of sinking feeling in his stomach, as if he'd just been let down, and covered it by turning his face deliberately away, clicking his tongue. "How should I know? Don't bring up unpleasant things like that."

He could see Yata scowling at him at the far edge of his vision. "Th-That should be my line!" he blustered. "Unpleasant is right! Just seeing your face right now gives me the creeps!" That seemed to be enough of a push to get him moving towards the door. "There's no way I'm going to hang around with you - I'm out of here!"

"Fine with me," Fushimi responded darkly, just before the door slammed shut in his new roommate's wake.

In the silence that followed, it was possible to detect the world shifting on its axis, just slightly.

Fushimi could feel the racing of his heart and the pumping of blood through his veins with a stark clarity that was both thrilling and a little overwhelming. He sank down into the chair at his desk, still shaking a little in reaction to the unfamiliar emotion.

It was strange, but he couldn't deny that it felt good. Like the night before, but safer. This was acceptable, being the focus of Yata Misaki's hatred. All that energy poured directly at him. Fushimi leaned against his seat and let his head fall back, a giddy feeling bubbling up from the core of his stomach. He felt as if he'd been brought to life out of a half-dead existence; it was so intense and so _real_ that he almost couldn't breathe.

 _The way he looks at me..._ Not fake, and not distant or looking down on him. _Like I'm the only thing in the universe at that moment._ It was as if something in his life would change; the boring, insignificant existence of doing things for the sake of doing them would end.

Fushimi closed his eyes and breathed out slowly. The image of Yata's flushed, angry face didn't leave his head, but this time it was fine.


	3. With Friends Like These

**Building Bridges**

 **With Friends Like These**

"First day back..." Bandou sank down onto the grass with a sigh. "It's both good and bad, you know?"

Yata lowered his chopsticks, frowning in return. "What kind of attitude is that? Training under Mikoto-san doesn't have anything bad about it!"

"Says the newbie first-year," Dewa added, raising an eyebrow when Yata turned the frown on him. "Not saying Mikoto-san isn't awesome or anything, but... yeah, give it a month or so."

"School is school, in the end," Chitose agreed easily, from his other side. They were all sitting in the sun outside the trades building, with boxed lunches that had been brought over from the campus cafeteria - one of the nice things about having a close friend who worked there full-time. "Besides, this will be a job one day - and the best part of any job is hanging out at the bar afterwards."

"What the hell? Can you guys really say you're Mikoto-san's apprentices with that kind of half-assed outlook?" Yata irritably jabbed an elbow into Kamamoto, who was sitting next to him. "Say something, dumbass! You're with me on this, right?"

Kamamoto shot him a slightly injured look from over his lunch. "Yata-san..."

"First-years." Dewa sighed, exchanging a glance with Chitose.

"Don't lump me in with him," Eric muttered, without glancing up from his meal.

"Shut up!" Yata clenched his chopsticks in his fist, waving them fiercely. "Are you guys seriously trying to tell me that you're not excited to be working with Mikoto-san again? I had to wait a whole year for this!"

"Yata seems kind of tense today," Akagi said in an undertone to Bandou - as if he thought somehow his voice wouldn't carry to the entire group. "Did something happen?"

"No idea." Bandou shook his head. "It's probably just Yata being Yata."

 _That really pisses me off..._ He opened his mouth to call them out, but was interrupted by Fujishima's quiet voice. "Did everything work out okay with your roommate last night, Yata?"

The reminder was enough to make his eyebrow twitch. "That bastard..." he growled, fingers tightening around the chopsticks. It had to be the worst luck the world that landed him with Fushimi as a roommate. The snide comments, the condescending attitude, the way he looked down his nose at Yata...

And then, worst of all, there was that stupid night at the party.

 _I can't believe that asshole was my first kiss._ And second, and third, and - yeah. It had felt good, too; even now, the memory was pretty vivid. _Fuck._

"'Bastard'?" Akagi repeated, leaning in curiously. "What'd he do?"

Yata stiffened at that, feeling heat rise to his face. _Like hell I'm telling them..._ "H-He's just a fucking asshole, that's what!" He turned his glare back down to his meal, muttering, "And his face seriously pisses me off."

It wasn't like any of them needed to know that he'd rudely hung up on Fujishima after not bothering to explain anything about his blow-up with Fushimi at the dorm. And they definitely didn't know that he'd spent the next few hours at the Homra bar on campus, complaining to Kusanagi - and Totsuka, who happened to be there as well - about stupid smug assholes who thought they were better than everyone else. It hadn't helped that they'd both seemed more amused than sympathetic. And the evening was pretty well capped off when he came back to the dorm in hopes of sneaking into bed while Fushimi was sleeping, and found him still awake and at his desk. An offhand comment about the fact that he'd never grow any taller if he stayed out late every night instead of sleeping had started them sniping at each other again, and when he'd finally rolled into his bunk with aggravation, it had taken ages to calm down enough to fall asleep.

In short, his current situation sucked, and it was all Fushimi's fault.

"His _face_ pisses you off?" Chitose raised an eyebrow at him. "What are you, a thirteen-year-old girl with a crush?"

"Shut up!" The hot, unpleasant prickling on his neck and face got worse at that.

"Do you guys have history or something?" Akagi asked, tilting his head with a kind of unassuming curiousity.

Yeah, maybe if 'history' meant 'way too familiar with the inside of his mouth'... Yata sputtered, pushing aside that unwanted thought. "O-Of course not!"

Dewa rolled his eyes. "That reaction's pretty suspicious, you know."

Yata whipped his head wildly to face him. "Wh-Wh-What's suspicious? You're just mouthing off over nothing!"

"Totally suspicious," Eric murmured, still bent over his food.

" _I'm not suspicious!_ "

"Calm down a little, Yata-san." Kamamoto patted his shoulder. "You don't need to explain anything to us."

"There's nothing to explain!" Yata let out a frustrated huff, slumping back and scowling down at his lunch again. "My roommate's a fucking asshole - there's nothing suspicious about that. It's just annoying as hell!"

The _really_ annoying part about it, though, was that as much as Fushimi pissed him off, he didn't think he could argue that he actually hated his roommate. He didn't understand Fushimi, but some of the things that still stuck in his memory from the night before - stuff he'd said, looks they'd exchanged - made him feel restless, like he should be doing something but couldn't figure out where or how to direct that energy. Fushimi was definitely an asshole, but Yata was drawn to him in some weird way that he didn't know how to deal with.

 _I don't know what the hell his problem with me is, either..._

"Well, don't take it out on us," Chitose responded, with both eyebrows raised just enough to match his frown. "It's not like we're the dorm managers. Go bitch at them if you have a problem."

"I know that," Yata snapped at him, bending over his lunch to shovel his food in savagely. He wasn't sure what kind of complaint would be needed to switch rooms, but he had a feeling 'I hate this guy's stupid face' wouldn't count. And 'we made out at a party and now we can't stand the sight of each other' was probably even worse (not that he wanted to put that one out there in the first place).

 _Whatever. I'm not letting him ruin my first year apprenticing to Mikoto-san._ He'd had to do a whole year of supplementary lessons after graduating in order to qualify, while Kamamoto and the older friends he'd met _through_ Kamamoto decided to go ahead with the whole apprenticing thing without him. And the whole time, he'd been able to see Suoh Mikoto in action, just _itching_ to finally start learning from him and maybe - just maybe - becoming someone half as awesome, and now it was finally happening. There was no way he was letting some random jerk who kissed him at a party and then happened to be his roommate wreck that!

"Hey, so, did you guys see the campus security lead this morning?" Bandou made an appreciative hum. "She's even more of a hottie this year!"

"And an ice princess," Chitose added, waving his hand dismissively. "I like girls who will actually give you the time of day, ya know?" He grinned. "For example, most of the ladies in the music department..."

"... are probably going to piece together that you've been flirting with _all_ of them one of these days," Dewa put in, drily.

Chitose looked a little chagrined at that, but seemed to recover quickly enough. "Well, maybe I'll start hanging around the academics building instead. Plenty of hotties around there."

"Didn't you say literature students were snobs?" Akagi shrugged with a bit of a smile when he got a flat stare for that. "Just pointing it out..."

"There's more than just literature in that building, you know," Chitose responded, loftily.

"Is that where they do computing stuff?" The words were out before Yata had a chance to fully think them through.

"Huh? Computing? No idea." Chitose raised an eyebrow at him. "You really think you could bag a woman who's into computing? You can barely talk to girls in the first place."

"Th-That's not why I asked!" Actually, why _had_ he asked? It wasn't like he really cared where Fushimi went to class... Okay, maybe he was a _little_ curious, but still. Yata turned back to his meal with a scowl, feeling flustered. "Forget it, never mind!"

"The computer labs are in a separate building," Fujishima pointed out, in that quiet, even tone of his.

"I said never mind!" He shoveled another bite into his mouth, fiercely.

There were several long seconds of silence.

When Yata looked up again, the others were all watching him. "What?" he demanded, crossly.

"Yata-san..." Kamamoto expression was a mix of concern and apprehension. "You've been acting really strange today."

"And yesterday," Dewa added, drily. "But you don't have the excuse of a hangover today. Better not let Kusanagi know about that, by the way, or he'll skin you a new one for underage drinking."

"How much did you even _drink_ , anyway?" Bandou asked him, shaking his head.

"You never made it back to the dorm," Fujishima added quietly.

"Suspicious," Eric tossed in, almost off-hand.

"Hung over, stayed out all night, and now he's acting like he's got something to hide." Chitose checked off the items on his fingers, and then raised his eyebrows. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say Yata got some action at that party."

All heads immediately swiveled back to gawk at him.

 _Fuck._

"H-HAH?" That hit uncomfortably close to the mark. Yata could feel his face flushing again, and scrambled for a response. "Wh-Why...? I-I didn't... D-Don't just assume..."

"Bingo," Eric murmured, with infuriating certainty.

"Wh-What the hell do you know, anyway?" He shot back a glare and a scowl, which were completely ignored. "You guys fucking ditched me, and I ended up trapped in a storage room with a complete asshole all night!" He narrowed his eyes then as a thought occurred to him. "Hey... none of you even went looking for me, either, did you?"

Bandou scratched his head, laughing a bit sheepishly. "He's kinda got a point there..."

"But," Chitose cut in, leaning forward over his forgotten lunch box, "if you got some action, then it should be worth it, right?"

Dewa gave him a sideways glance and then sighed, rubbing a hand over his forehead.

Chitose blinked at him, looking startled. "What? What'd I say?"

"Why didn't you call one of us?" Akagi cut in, earnestly, ignoring that little exchange.

Yata scratched at the back of his head under his beanie, feeling embarrassed. "I forgot my phone."

"Isn't that your own screw-up, then?" Eric pointed out.

And that was enough to piss him off again. "It wouldn't have been a problem if you assholes hadn't all _ditched_ me!" His fingers clenched around his chopsticks again. "You were supposed to have my back, goddamnit, and instead you all left me alone to get drunk and make out with a random... fucking..."

 _Shit!_

"Heeeeh?" The smirk that spread across Chitose's face was annoyingly smug. "This sounds interesting. What was her name?"

 _'Her'..._ "N-N-None of your business!"

"What? Come on, don't be so stingy!"

"That's great, though, Yata-san!" Kamamoto clapped him on the shoulder, beaming like an idiot. "It's a big step to overcoming your fear, right?"

"Never thought I'd see the day." Bandou shook his head.

Yata's gaze darted back and forth between them, a vague sense of panic stirring in his gut. "Sh-Shut up! It's nothing! Just forget I said anything!"

"Seriously, though." Chitose brushed off his protests. "Who was she? Maybe I know her."

"Nobody! It was nobody, okay?" Yata blurted out desperately. "You don't know that... that person, so stop asking!"

"You'd be surprised how many 'nobodies' he knows," Dewa remarked, drily.

"Well, he doesn't know this one!"

"What?" Chitose looked mildly affronted at that. "How can you be so sure? Is she a first year? I met some of them over the winter break, you know. It's not like I had to have scored with her just to _talk_ or anything, if that's what you're worried about."

"I'm not worried!" Yata's heart was thundering in his ears; it felt like his blood was running hot. _Fucking drop it already, goddamnit!_ "You haven't met this person, it's nobody, so stop asking already!"

"Am I the only one who's actually way more curious now?" Bandou commented, grinning like a completely asshole.

"Guys..." Akagi held up his hands placatingly. "Maybe we should just drop it, huh?"

"Huh? Where's the fun in that?"

"'That person'," Eric said suddenly; when Yata jerked his gaze in that direction, he got a sharp-eyed stare in return. "'This one'. 'It's nobody'." A pause, then, "It's not a girl, is it?"

The world seemed to screech to a halt with that.

 _HOW THE FUCK?_ "Wh-Wh-Why would you - ?"

Eric actually had the gall to smirk at him. "Bullseye, huh?"

 _Shit. Shit shit shit shit SHIT._ Yata could feel the chopsticks straining as his thumb pressed against the end with his fist still clenched tightly around them; he glared desperately down at his food, feeling his face burn. The silence stretched out, speaking a lot louder than he could've managed.

Someone - Kamamoto, maybe - coughed lightly, and that was enough of a trigger to bring Yata's head back up. He fixed them all with the fiercest scowl he could muster, and demanded testily, "What? If you have a fucking _problem_ \- "

"Heh." Eric turned that same smirk around at the others. He held out his hand, palm up, and wiggled his fingers meaningfully.

Almost as a collective, the rest of them let out groans and reached for their wallets.

Yata blinked, not quite trusting his eyes. "Eh...?"

"Goddamnit," Bandou sighed, staring mournfully at his empty wallet. "I'll have to owe you."

Chitose deposited his cash into Eric's waiting palm with a rueful look. "Well played, Surt."

"I guess it was a 50-50 chance after all," Akagi added with good-natured resignation.

Yata stared around at them with growing horror. "You... you guys..." His eyes caught on the unexpected sight of Kamamoto pulling a few bills from his wallet. "Even Kamamoto..." The reality of the situation seemed to click into place; for a moment, he was frozen in place.

 _They were all taking bets on... on..._

The chopsticks snapped.

"What the _fuck?_ " There was red encroaching on his vision. "You guys call yourselves my _friends_ , and - and - " Up to that point, he hadn't even known it was possible to literally sputter with rage, but there it was.

"Ah, sorry." Akagi held up his hands, with a bit of a sheepish little smile. "It was just a friendly bet."

Bandou shrugged, unapologetic. "Seriously, though, with the way you run for the hills every time a girl comes near, who wouldn't wonder?"

Yata could actually feel his hands trembling with rage. "You... you..."

"It was kind of weird," Dewa commented.

Chitose sighed. "And here I thought just a little practice would help you out. Guess my efforts were wasted there, huh?"

" _Efforts, my ass!_ " Without thinking, Yata jumped to his feet, spilling the remains of his lunch across the ground in front of him. "You fucking _left_ me to fend for myself at that goddamn party! This is all your fault!"

"Yata-san!" Kamamoto's voice was almost comically concerned. "Your - your food..."

Eric snorted. "Right, because Chitose was holding a gun to your head forcing you to put your lips on some guy."

"Shut up! You abandoned me just like he did!" His knuckles were starting to ache with how hard he'd clenched his fists. "I wouldn't have even gone to that fucking place if he hadn't been so goddamn pushy about me learning to talk to girls! I have to _live_ with that stupid asshole, and now things are all weird thanks to you!"

"Eh? 'Live with' him?" Chitose raised both eyebrows, looking mildly surprised. "Seriously? This guy turned out to be your roommate?"

"That explains what I heard," Fujishima commented quietly, looking thoughtful.

Fuck, he hadn't meant to give that away, either. Yata felt his eyebrow twitch. "G-Got something to say about that?"

"Not me." Bandou shook his head vigorously. "That sounds pretty damn awkward."

"Good luck with that," Dewa added, unhelpfully.

Chitose frowned thoughtfully. "It sucks, but... y'know, you could turn it around." He actually looked serious when he met Yata's aggravated stare. "Any chance of a repeat? You'd have unlimited privacy; pretty ideal for casual fucking - or, y'know, dating." Almost as an afterthought, he tossed in, "I don't really recommend dating assholes, though - it can get messy."

Yata stared back at him incredulously. "Are you fucking kidding me? C-C-Casual f-f-fuck - ?" The embarrassment that came with the words was too strong; he gave up trying to finish. "Th-There is no goddamn way I'm _ever_ doing anything like that with that fuckhead!"

He didn't even want to think about it. _Seriously._ That meant his brain could stop trying to shove images of Fushimi's flushed face into his thoughts. He did not need those images. And he definitely didn't like them, either!

"Done eating?" The familiar slow, deep voice had him spinning around almost immediately, all thoughts and the threads of previous conversations coming to an abrupt halt. Mikoto stood a short distance from where they were all gathered, without concern for the school guidelines around how far from a building his lit cigarette was actually allowed.

The lack of regard for rules just made him that much cooler, in Yata's opinon. "Mikoto-san!" Immediately, the day seemed brighter; he grinned back at his instructor, bringing his fists up with enthusiasm. "I'm ready to get back to work any time you are! Just say the word!"

"First-years..." Dewa muttered behind him, almost too quietly to be heard.

Mikoto didn't seem to have noticed. "That so? Then let's go back." He turned back towards the building without either rushing or waiting.

 _So cool!_ "All right!" Even with that whole stupid conversation, he was pumped for an afternoon of working beside the person he looked up to most. "Let's get to this!"

There was some shuffling behind him as the others started to move.

 _Perfect timing - that means I can go ahead and forget this whole thing ever happ -_

"By the way... Yata." Mikoto plucked the cigarette out of his mouth without turning, dropping it to the ground and stepping on it even as he casually kept talking. "You still have to use protection when it's between two men."

"Mi... koto... san...?" Dimly, Yata was aware of his friends laughing behind him; he could see the back of his idol as Mikoto strolled lazily back towards the trades building. When he sank to his knees, though, the roaring that echoed around his head as his life crashed to the ground around him blocked out everything else.


	4. Connections

**Building Bridges**

 **Connections**

The first day of class after break was, as far as Fushimi's experience had proven, largely a waste of time. Really, if attendance wasn't a mark that could be used to drop someone from a class, he wouldn't have bothered going. As it was, he'd spent about half of the time his three lectures that day made up fine-tuning his data collection device, and the other half absent-mindedly trolling cell phone games that tried to appear skill-based when they were really pay-to-win. Most of them were ridiculously easy to circumvent, but it almost wasn't worth even that minimal amount of effort any more.

 _It's about as pointless as coming to class is._ Fushimi pulled out the chair at his desk in Munakata's office, lowering himself into it. There was no one else in the room, which was probably kind of careless considering the door had been unlocked, but that wasn't his problem. _Most things in this place are, though._

Most... not all.

Yata had left before Fushimi had gotten out of bed for his first class, so there hadn't been time to rile him up before the day got started, which was a little disappointing. But it couldn't be helped; trades programs generally seemed to start early and end late. Getting his rush for the day would have to wait until after he returned to the dorm in the evening.

It would probably be worth the delay, though. Fushimi felt the smirk building on his lips and didn't bother to put in the effort to suppress it. Something about Yata's reactions made his heart race and his blood pump faster and fiercer in his veins. Even thinking about it now was enough to give him a small taste - a tiny preview of what being alive truly felt like in the endless, bland plain of his existence.

The irritation of a roommate - even such a loud, obnoxious one - was starting to seem like a small price to pay.

"You seem to be in a good mood today," Munakata remarked, from beside him. When Fushimi turned his head, he offered a small, almost amused smile. "Did something happen recently?"

Fushimi clicked his tongue, peeved to have been caught off-guard. "Nothing important."

"I see." One small point in Munakata's favor - despite being disturbingly perceptive and unapologetically manipulative, he never pushed back against even the most obvious lies. "Well, regardless of the source, that mood will come in handy as you're grading the pop quiz I gave this morning."

The reminder of just what was waiting in that stack of papers sitting on the desk in front of him was enough to sour what was left of the good feeling. "Right."

A pop quiz on the first day of class... What an unpleasant way to start the semester.

"This is from the introductory calculus class," Munakata pointed out, following his gaze. "As such, I'd think you should give an eye to potential aptitude rather than results. The method should be examined for partial marks even if the conclusion is faulty."

"Whatever you say." _Pointless._ Fushimi reached for the stack, more irritated at the prospect of having to look closely at every idiot in the class's half-baked calculations. If they couldn't manage to find the right answer, it was better to just say they were incorrect rather than give some credit for 'trying', or something stupid like that.

"I'll leave it to your good judgement, then."

Fushimi watched his boss step back to his own desk - the room was cramped enough that there wasn't much space between them as it was, and they had to work facing each other, which was moderately unnerving - and then turned back to the papers in front of him.

His relationship with Munakata was a bit unusual, if he was thinking about it honestly. The previous year, Fushimi had taken one of his classes (a requirement for the degree he was working towards) and for whatever reason, somehow he'd managed to catch his professor's eye - although he wasn't entirely sure if it was because of skill or attitude. It was only after he'd been asked for his opinion on the course material, the style of teaching, and the progress of his fellow students that he'd been offered the TA position, and he sometimes had to privately wonder if Munakata just wanted to see what he'd do once he had some control over other people's grades.

 _Why the hell anyone would give this guy tenure, I don't know._ True, Munakata was intelligent, and he seemed to be a patient enough instructor, but he did a lot of things for reasons that Fushimi thought might be really pushing the line of what was appropriate.

Well, not that he cared in the end.

The stack of paper was still sitting in front of him, untouched - Fushimi resisted the urge to click his tongue again, and pulled the red pen from the holder at the side of his desk.

 _Might as well get started, then..._

Unfortunately, as he'd more or less suspected, 'introductory' meant a class full of idiots who had no clue what they were doing, with one or two exceptions scattered here and there. There were a total of forty quizzes to grade, and by the end of the first fifteen or so, his mood had already gone down a few notches. The only small measure of satisfaction came in printing the failing scores at the top in big bold numbers.

 _I don't know how you got into college in the first place._ Fushimi put aside the latest quiz sheet - a new all-time low score - and reached for the next one.

"Excuse me - Fushimi?"

The voice wasn't familiar - not that he'd taken the time to get to know that many voices at this school. Fushimi turned his gaze on the speaker, an equally unfamiliar young man with dark hair that partially covered his face and dark eyes to match. "What?"

He got a small, polite smile in return. "Did Professor Munakata say when he would be back?"

 _He left?_ Fushimi glanced up at the desk opposite his - empty. He clicked his tongue, turning back to the visitor. "No, he didn't."

"Sorry for the interruption, then." The smile inched up a little, gaining a rueful appearance. "Is it all right if I wait here for him?"

How irritating. Fushimi turned his eyes back to his work, resisting the urge to sigh. "Do what you want."

"Thanks - and sorry for the trouble." Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the other man moving to study Munakata's bookshelf, before pausing to add, "By the way, if you don't remember me, I'm Akiyama Himori - I was the Professor's TA last year."

 _Which means what, exactly, to me?_ Fushimi eyed him without turning his head. Now that he looked, there was something vaguely familiar about Akiyama. He hadn't paid a lot of attention to the TA back then. "And?"

"And... well, I just thought I'd mention it." Akiyama shrugged, his smile turning a bit awkward. "I'm working with campus security now, so we'll probably run into each other a few times here and there."

 _Fantastic._ And it wasn't worth a response. Fushimi purposefully picked up the next paper from his pile, hoping Akiyama would take the hint.

He did, which was a point in his favor, at least. Not that it mattered. Fushimi turned his full attention back to the quiz sheets, blocking out the additional presence in the room. _At least this one isn't aggressively trying to make friends._

Luck really wasn't with him, though, as it turned out; after only a few moments, there were more footsteps approaching. "Akiyama?"

 _Is it always like this, with all these interruptions?_ A quick glance to the doorway showed the same brown-haired security team member who'd approached him after the meeting. Even better. _How does he get any work done with this many visitors?_

Not that Munakata was even there to do work in the first place...

"Sorry, Hidaka," Akiyama was telling the newcomer, with a sidelong glance at Fushimi, "I'll be a few more minutes. I think the Professor just stepped out of his office for a moment - he'll probably be back soon."

"Right. Well, no rush." The brown-haired man - Hidaka, apparently - also looked quickly towards Fushimi - which was kind of annoying. He wasn't a tourist attraction. Couldn't they have their conversation in the hallway? "The rest of us are going to go on ahead to the cafeteria, so did you want to just meet us there?"

"Sure, no problem."

Hidaka hesitated for a moment, and then turned a bit. "Did you want to come too, Fushimi?"

He could already feel the top right side of his mouth going up in an incredulous sneer. "No way."

"There's no need to hold yourself back on my account, Fushimi-kun." At some point during the exchange, apparently Munakata had returned; he offered a beatific smile from the other side of the doorway when all gazes were drawn to him. "This is the first day of classes, after all - I think it's only fitting that you should spend some time acquainting yourself with some of your fellow students and colleagues."

"I still have quizzes to grade." It was a useless argument, and he could already see it, but sifting through feeble attempts at calculus equations sounded infinitely less painful than forced interaction with a group of people he didn't care about.

 _I am never signing another contract again after this._

"They'll still be here for you tomorrow," Munakata pointed out magnanimously. "It's far more important to form connections, wouldn't you say?"

Fushimi clicked his tongue. "Fine," he muttered, setting down his pen, and shot a glare at Hidaka, who blanched a bit.

"I'll catch up with you." Akiyama smiled in a way that looked somewhat sympathetic as Fushimi got to his feet and pushed his chair back in. "Save a seat for me, all right?"

"Uh - sure." Hidaka turned from the doorway, shot an anxious look in Fushimi's direction, and turned to head back out.

There was a long, tense moment of silence between them as they started off down the hallway.

"So... Fushimi." Hidaka's tone, when he finally decided to speak up, was a bit tentative. "What's your major?"

Small talk. Great. Fushimi clicked his tongue. "Computing Science."

"Oh, really? That's cool." There was an edge of hope in Hidaka's voice that would have been laughable if the situation wasn't already so absurdly annoying. "I'm actually still a student, too - my position on the security team is part-time. Kind of like yours, right?"

"Do you have a point?"

The question seemed to catch him off-guard. "Ah - well - "

"Oi, Hidaka!" At the end of the hallway, another guy was leaning in through the entrance to the building. "Hurry up, so we can get seats before - geh!" He make an almost comical expression of surprised dismay on spotting Fushimi.

"Fushimi's going to join us," Hidaka announced, hastily and with a certain emphasis. He glanced back and forth between the two of them, a bit awkwardly. "Fushimi, this is Domyouji - he's another one of the student part-timers, like me."

Domyouji's apprehension was plain on his face when they approached, but he seemed to shrug it off easily enough. "Yeah, good to meet you. Anyway, though!" He turned his attention back to Hidaka as they pushed through the doors. "We're going to hit the dinnertime rush if we don't hurry, so come on!"

"I think we've still got a while." Hidaka shrugged, tossed Fushimi an apologetic smile and waved a hand at the three others waiting just outside. "This is Enomoto, that's Fuse, and that's Goto." He indicated each one in turn, as if there was some reason their names would be important. "The rest of the student part-timers on the security team."

"Yeah, apparently the full-timers have better things to do than catch dinner with us juniors," Domyouji complained, tucking his hands behind his head with an overly exaggerated sigh.

"Most of them are working," one of the others - Goto, according to the introduction - reminded him.

"Akiyama came with us, though," Enomoto added, somewhat diffidently.

"Akiyama's different!" Domyouji asserted, as they started moving away from the building. "He was more like one of us last year, so he's not in full-timer mode yet."

"He wasn't even on the team last year," Fuse responded. He was eyeing Fushimi with a skeptical sort of frown. "Usually Munakata's TAs end up at our meetings, though, so I guess you could argue otherwise."

 _This is pointless._ Fushimi ignored the vague probing in the comment, deliberately slowing his steps so that he could hang towards the back of the group as the rest of them chatted about useless, small things. If he had any luck at all, this would be a one-time event. But it was more likely that Munakata would push it on him again in some form or another. Fushimi wasn't sure if he was more fascinated or disgusted by his boss's uncanny ability to delicately nudge others into doing whatever he wanted them to, like placing chess pieces on a board.

Not for the first time, he wondered what part he was expected to play.

It probably didn't matter, in the end. This was just a year of his life, and once it was over, he could leave the job without consequences and these people would all fade into the background, becoming vague memories and half-remembered annoyances, like every person he'd come into any kind of contact with.

... with the exception of _that man_ , but that wasn't worth dwelling on.

Yata's face rose up to the surface of his thoughts, sporting an intense stare that could have been anger or... Well, it was anger. Fushimi shut his eyes for a moment, feeling his skin prickle and his pulse quicken, and wondered if this was something that he would lose when the year ended as well.

Maybe not. You didn't easily forget someone you hated, after all.

"Hey, hey, did you guys hear about the guy who tried to hit on Awashima-san today?" Domyouji asked loudly, glancing around at all of them with the air of an overly enthusiastic gossip. "I heard she actually slapped him - poor guy." The wide grin on his face gave away the level of sincerity in those words.

"Awashima-san's pretty scary, huh?" Hidaka scratched the back of his head almost nervously.

"I was there, actually - and, well, I don't know if he deserved it, but he definitely was persistent." Enomoto looked thoughtful for a moment. "I think I recognized him from last year. He was in the welding apprenticeship program, if I've got the right person."

"Welding?" Fushimi repeated, before he'd fully processed the conversation. He silently cursed his tongue when the all five of them turned to look at him with some surprise. "What?"

Enomoto blinked. "Nothing..."

"Well, it makes sense that you'd hear about welding, being Munakata's TA, right?" Hidaka offered a shrug and a half-smile. "I mean, you've probably already run into Suoh-san..."

Fushimi frowned at him. He remembered the name, of course. Suoh Mikoto - Yata's 'Mikoto-san'. For some reason, the thought of this man he'd never even met before was irritating. "No, I haven't."

"Oh." Hidaka seemed at a loss for words; he scrambled for a moment, before forging on stubbornly. "So... do you have a friend who's in the program, maybe?"

 _'Friend', huh?_ Fushimi huffed out a brief, derisive laugh, turning his eyes forward again. "Not a friend. My roommate."

"Huh, so your roommate's apprenticing with Suoh-san..." Hidaka frowned thoughtfully.

Fuse barked a laugh. "That's one hell of a coincidence."

"Maybe it's got a deeper meaning - or something." Domyouji tossed that comment off carelessly, then grimaced when he met Fushimi's gaze. "Well, then again, maybe not..."

"It's a small world, I guess," Enomoto remarked.

 _What the hell are they going on about?_ Fushimi could already feel his lip curling with distaste, and clicked his tongue, shifting his gaze away from the group. Whatever - it wasn't worth trying to piece together the cryptic clues. "It feels a lot smaller when every idiot on the planet is discussing your personal business."

He could almost feel the atmosphere growing cold at that.

"Ahaha... so... Goto, weren't you telling us about that new poseable figure you ordered the other day?" Hidaka said with a hint of desperation, obviously trying to move the conversation past that rough spot.

"Oh, right!" Goto actually brightened up. "I think it'll make a great centerpiece - and, actually, I was going to ask you about that. See, I'm running out of space on my desk..."

"What? You're not thinking of bleeding your stuff over onto my side, are you?"

"It'd just be a little... it's not like you're even using most of that space, anyway!"

"No way!" The hesitation had gone from Hidaka's voice. "That weird collection of yours gives me the creeps! Keep it on your own side!"

"Hidaka's pretty stingy," Domyouji chimed in, lightly.

"Huh? I am not!"

Back to the pointless babbling, then. Fushimi did his best to tune out the conversation, already planning out the quickest way to fulfil this ridiculous obligation. He could just eat a small dinner and leave as soon as he'd cleared his plate. It wasn't like he was particularly hungry. The less time spent with these annoying idiots, the better.

 _Should I go back to the dorm after?_ It wasn't something he'd had to think about, before. Fushimi frowned, considering it. What were the chances he'd run into Yata versus having the room to himself for a few hours?

Honestly, he wasn't entirely sure which he'd prefer, which was slightly annoying. Classifying his so-called 'connection' with Yata was a lot like trying to hold a slimy, struggling eel with one hand - and about as appealing. His roommate was loud, annoying, and had approximately the same level of intelligence as a brick. He was so many of the things Fushimi found irritating, it was hard to reason out why the idea of seeing him - arguing with him - getting a reaction from him - provoked such strong feelings.

 _Well, I won't think too hard about it._ He'd just go back to the dorm; if Yata was there, then Fushimi could probably rile him up until he stormed out. And if not, it was only a matter of time until he was.

The anticipation was enough to make his skin prickle up again; Fushimi pushed his doubt back into the farthest corner of his mind and firmly locked it away.


	5. Communication Breakdown

**Building Bridges**

 **Communication Breakdown**

Yata stretched his arms out across the counter beside his till, resting his chin between them. "Is it always this dead around here?"

"Just sometimes." Totsuka smiled brightly at him from the second till, bent over with his elbow braced on his own counter and his chin resting on his upturned hand. "You've only been here for fifteen minutes, though. Dinnertime rush usually starts in about forty-five or so." He chuckled. "Then you'll be wishing it was dead."

They were on opposite sides of the path leading out of the cafeteria's food selection, which looped around from the entrance directly on Yata's other side. The middle section attached to his till had some shelves of pre-packaged meals and snacks, and a cooler full of drinks. The outside of the ring was all freshly cooked food, manned by some of the senior cafeteria workers.

Honestly, when he'd been hired on as a part-timer, he'd kind of been hoping he'd actually get to cook some of the food. That sounded like more interesting work than standing behind a counter all evening. But, well, money was money, and it wasn't like he hadn't done this kind of job before.

At least he wasn't washing dishes in the back like the other part-timers on his shift schedule.

"Dunno how you do this full-time." He was probably going to die of boredom.

"Eh, it's not so bad." Totsuka made a small shrugging motion. "During the morning and lunchtime, I have another part-timer like you to chat with, and during the slow time in the afternoon, I can usually go over and talk to the chefs." His smile widened. "And I'll have you in the evenings now, too, right?"

"That's true." Yata brightened up a little at that. It was lucky for him that Totsuka worked here, and was well-liked by the managers - it had helped him get the job, it had helped him get the perfect shift schedule of weekday evenings, and it had helped him avoid being assigned to dish-bitch.

All in all, he couldn't complain too much.

There was one other thing he'd been meaning to ask about, though. "By the way, Totsuka-san..." he started, pushing himself up again so that he was propped up on both elbows. "I know there's a convenience store in the activity center, but they don't really have a lot for - you know - ingredients." He reached up to scratch his cheek, feeling a bit awkward about it. "I mean, the food here's good and all, and the employee discount helps out big time, but I don't really have time to get here for breakfast, so..."

"You want to cook for yourself, right?" Totsuka finished for him. "Were you wondering if the cafeteria would sell you groceries?"

It sounded really stupid when it was put like that. Yata grinned sheepishly. "I guess... kind of."

"Well, I don't think they'd do it for a part-timer." Totsuka's smile was bright all the same. "But, you know, I tried cooking a while back - it was pretty fun, actually, even if I wasn't very good at it in the end..." He straightened up, getting a faraway look as he reminisced, and then spread his hands in an 'oh well' sort of motion. "Anyway, at the time, they sold me some of the ingredients - milk and eggs and rice, things like that - so you'd just have to give me the money and I could buy those for you."

"Seriously?" Not having to go off-campus for them was huge. Yata beamed back, relieved. "That'd be a big help - thanks!"

"Don't worry about it." Totsuka waved that off with his usual carefree smile. "Cook us a meal at Homra sometime in return - how about that?"

"Of course!"

The doors leading into the cafeteria swung open. "Aha - some early birds," Totsuka remarked, and raised his voice. "Welcome!"

"Hey, Totsuka-san!" The leader of the group - a tall, brown-haired guy - raised a hand in greeting. "Looks like we beat the rush."

"By a mile," Totsuka agreed pleasantly, and waved a hand in Yata's direction. "This guy's new, so don't be rude if he's slow, okay?"

"Totsuka-san!" Yata protested, a little disgruntled at that warning. It wasn't like working a till was hard; he'd done it plenty, and this one wasn't even that complicated. He turned back to the group again, straightening up. "Yo! I'm Yata, and I can handle - _What the fuck are you doing here_?"

From the back of the group, Fushimi raised his eyebrows condescendingly, that irritating little smirk on his lips. "Still can't introduce yourself properly, hmm, _Misaki_?" he drawled, instead of answering. "Why not tell them your full name?"

That now-familiar coil of annoyance wound up at the pit of his stomach; Yata glowered back. "Bastard..."

Fushimi approached the counter, ignoring the stares of the group he'd just walked in with - _Seriously, that guy has friends? How?_ \- and placing a hand on the surface, almost casually. "I have to give you credit - I didn't think you were smart enough to get yourself a job."

"Shut up! I can get a job no problem!" He deliberately didn't mention Totsuka's help - that was completely beside the point. "Anyway, like you can talk - I'm not the one with the rotten personality that no one would ever hire!"

One of Fushimi's eyebrows twitched, but his expression didn't otherwise change. "Ah, right, my rotten personality - wasn't it you who described me as 'really cool'? And you 'want to know more'?" His smirk took on a mocking edge. "Well, now you know more - does it meet your expectations, Misaki?"

The reminder was enough to make his face grow hot - Yata hastily slammed his hands down on the counter, leaning forward to glare desperately at his roommate. _Don't say more than that, you bastard..._ "Quit using that name," he growled.

"Why? Is it embarrassing or something?" Fushimi eyed him with a kind of malicious glee. "I guess it's hard for a hopeless virgin like yourself to deal with someone addressing you by your first name, isn't it" - a pause, and then the rest came with the syllables drawn out deliberately - "Mi-sa-ki~?"

There was red swimming at the edges of his vision. Yata opened his mouth to demand that they take this outside, and fuck whatever happened with his job as a result, but was interrupted before he could.

"Is this the roommate you were telling us about, Yata?" Totsuka asked, as brightly as if they weren't sniping at each other in the middle of the cafeteria. A startled glance over his shoulder earned him an innocent, completely unruffled smile. "You seem like you're all fired up again, so I just kind of figured it was the same person."

Somehow, Totsuka always seemed to have the words to diffuse a situation. Yata took in a breath and let it out in a frustrated huff, shooting a scowl in Fushimi's direction and crossing his arms. "Yeah, this is the same asshole. You see what I have to put up with?"

"Ah, so I was right." Totsuka tilted his head, looking past him with a kind of carefree interest. "Hey there, Yata's roommate. I'm Totsuka Tatara."

Fushimi's brow furrowed; the expression on his face as he met that gaze looked like it couldn't decide whether to be disgruntled or unsettled. After a brief second, he clicked his tongue. "Fushimi Saruhiko."

"Nice to meet you! Fushimi-kun, is it? Or can I call you Saruhiko-kun?" Totsuka blinked. "That's kind of hard to say, actually..."

For some reason, the idea of the two of them being on a first-name basis made Yata's stomach twist up a bit. He straightened defensively, uncrossing his arms again. _There's no reason Totsuka should have to deal with his shitty behavior - that's all!_ "You don't need to talk with this guy, Totsuka-san!"

"Hm?" Totsuka glanced from him to Fushimi, looking mildly surprised. "Why?"

"Hah? B-Because!" Somehow, the question caught him off-guard; Yata felt heat crawling up his face again, and scowled against it. "He's an asshole, so..."

"Don't make that face while saying it," Fushimi muttered, sounding more than a little put out.

When Yata jerked his head up to glare, his roommate had averted his eyes. "What was that?"

Fushimi clicked his tongue again. His expression was something close to petulant. "Are you hard of hearing on top of being short?"

The irritation was already rolling over his earlier embarrassment. "Say that again, asshole - I dare you!"

"Ah, well," Totsuka interjected again, as casually as if this were any normal conversation, "I already meet all kinds of people here anyway, so you don't need to worry for my sake, Yata." He craned his neck a bit to check the clock. "You know, if you guys don't hurry up, you'll end up dealing with the dinnertime crowd after all."

Yata had almost forgotten about the others who'd come in with his roommate. Now that he took the time to look, he could see that they were watching the exchange with unconcealed curiosity - and maybe a bit of shock. Fushimi seemed to notice the same thing; he make another 'tch' noise and turned just enough to glare at them sideways. "What? Didn't you come here to eat? Quit gawking at other people's business."

"Oh... uh, right!" The brown-haired guy who'd initially spoken up hastily moved towards the food. "Then, I'll go first."

The rest of them awkwardly shuffled after him, with varying degrees of dubious glances back.

Fushimi watched them, lips curled downwards and eyes narrowed slightly, and then, with a brief glance at Yata and then Totsuka, he sighed and moved to follow.

Yata took a moment to scowl at his back, made an irritated sound under his breath, and turned back to his till without any real purpose. The encounter had stirred up a kind of restless feeling inside him, but he couldn't quite place it. Somehow it lingered right at the edges of his irritation, not quite mixing in right, and it made him a bit uneasy.

If it had something to do with _that_ night...

 _No! Totally not! No way in hell!_

"Are you all right, Yata?" When he looked up sharply, Totsuka was staring at him with some concern. "It seems like something's really bothering you."

Yata shot him an incredulous look. "Hah? What do you think?" He pointed in the general direction that Fushimi had gone, without looking. "That asshole is what's bothering me! I have to live with him, you know - I'll be putting up with that shit every day!"

"Mm, yeah, I guess that's going to be tough." Totsuka shrugged a little, then smiled warmly. "Don't worry so much - it'll all work out, somehow."

 _Easy for you to say._ Yata slumped against the counter, letting out an aggrieved sigh, and then summoned up a smile. "Right! I'm here for Mikoto-san, after all!" The memory of his beloved instructor's words after the lunch break came back to him, and he fought to keep the smile from twisting into a grimace. "Aha... it... it's going to be a great year. Right?"

His view of Totsuka was blocked before he could get a response to that; Fushimi set his tray down on the counter with a firm clacking noise. "I'd like to hear your definition of 'great'," he drawled, with that usual irritatingly condescending look. "I hope you didn't help cook any of this, Misaki, or I'll have to run it through some kind of check for food poisoning."

"H-Hey!" Yata braced his hands on the counter beside the tray, scowling back. "I'm a fucking awesome cook - you'd be lucky if you got to taste my food, _Saru_." He managed a small 'heh' and a smirk. "Too bad I'd die before cooking anything for your sorry ass."

"Oh?" Fushimi returned his smirk, leaning in just a bit with a kind of gleam in his eyes. "That sounds like an even trade, considering I'd probably die if I ate any of your cooking."

"You..." Yata looked down at his food tray to see what he _had_ picked up, and raised both eyebrows. "What the fuck? You barely grabbed anything! And where the hell are the vegetables?" He turned his incredulous stare back up on his roommate. "How are you even still alive if this is how you eat?"

Fushimi clicked his tongue, lips turning down into a frown again. "What do you care how I eat?"

"I don't fucking care!" Yata snapped back. "But seriously, no vegetables - are you _five_? And you know you pay the same price for this crap whether you load it up or not, so why is there so much space on your place? You're already practically a twig - you should fucking _eat_ , you dumbass!"

The expression that he was getting back now was a mix of irritation and bafflement - as if Fushimi couldn't figure him out, and trying to do it was annoying him. "It's none of your business. Just shut up and let me pay."

Somehow, that attitude really pissed him off. "You want to die of malnutrition? Fucking fine." He snatched the card from his roommate's hand, scowling deeper when he caught sight of the pathetic-looking plate again. Somehow, its existence offended him, although he couldn't say why. That restless feeling was back, though, full force; the sense that he wanted to do something - _should_ be doing something - but he couldn't figure out what. Yata punched his code into the machine and rang up the total, sliding the card in and pushing the terminal across the counter. "Waste your goddamn money, too - like I give a shit."

"That's why you won't shut up about it, right?" The edge of irritation in Fushimi's voice took away from the attempted taunt; he frowned down at the terminal as he keyed in his information. "Shouldn't you do something about your own stupidity before you go poking your nose into other people's lives, Misaki?"

" _Stop using that name already!_ "

"Hey, Saru-kun?" Totsuka cut in, as cheerfully as ever. "By any chance, are you Professor Munakata's new TA?"

The expression on Fushimi's face as he turned his head was almost comical in its deep disgust. "What."

It didn't even sound like a question - more like just plain, flat disbelief - but Totsuka answered it anyway. "Just taking a shot in the dark. It's true, huh?"

"Not... that." Fushimi was staring at Totsuka as if he were a glob of something stuck to the bottom of his shoe. "Why did you call me that?"

"Ah, right. 'Saru-kun', you mean?" Totsuka looked completely un-phased, smiling back with unconscious ease. "It came to me when I heard Yata call you 'Saru' - I just figured it's much easier to say than 'Saruhiko-kun', you know?" He blinked then, tilting his head. "You don't like it?"

Something seemed to shutter on Fushimi's face. "Do whatever you want," he mumbled, picking up his tray and striding across the room toward one of the empty tables.

Yata frowned after him, confused. _What was that about?_

"He sure is an interesting person," Totsuka commented, and Yata blinked, snapped out of his momentary trance. "I get the feeling he's the kind who keeps a lot of secrets - or something like that." He smiled brightly when Yata turned to stare at him. "What a strange coincidence that your roommate is Munakata's TA."

"Huh?" Yata could feel his forehead creasing. Sometimes the things this guy said were just weird as hell; he didn't get it. "Why does that matter? Who the hell is this Munakata person anyway?"

"You don't know?" Totsuka looked a little surprised - then his expression settled. "Well, it's not important - don't worry about it."

"Okay..." That was odd. Yata frowned, turning it over in his head, but the name didn't mean anything, so... whatever. If Totsuka said it didn't matter, that was good enough.

In his pocket, his phone suddenly buzzed.

 _Who would text me now?_ The others all knew he was at work. Yata glanced at the group of guys who had come in with Fushimi - they were the only ones in the cafeteria, and it looked like they were still picking out what they wanted. So, he probably had time to check. He pulled the phone out and unlocked the screen without stopping to look at the preview.

The first thing he noticed was that the message was from a number that wasn't in his contact list. The second thing was that it was typed out properly with a capital letter and shit, unlike anyone who had ever texted him, including his mother. And the third...

'Do you always lecture your customers on their purchases?'

For a moment, he just stared blankly down at his phone, unable to comprehend - and then he snapped his gaze up, wildly seeking Fushimi in the sea of mostly-empty tables. _What the fuck?_ He could see his roommate's back, leaning against his chair in an unconcerned sort of manner, and ground his teeth together.

"Something wrong, Yata?"

 _Yes, there is something goddamn wrong!_ "Nothing," he managed to growl back, and turned his attention back down to furiously type out a response.

'hwo the fcuk did u get tihs nmbr u dick?' 1

He hit send without bothering to correct any of the typos, and glared down at the colored word bubbles, waiting for a response.

'Is that supposed to be a human language? Who taught you to type, a gorilla?'

 _Fuck your fucking face!_ Yata swallowed a snarl, clenching his hands around his phone, and then began to type again, mashing his fingers into the keys, hard.

'fuck u jsut tel lme how u shtihead' 2

'Oh? You can't figure it out for yourself, Misaki?'

There was barely time to feel the stirrings of rage at that text before another one joined it.

'Why not ask your friend at the other till?'

 _What the hell?_ Yata stared at that one for a moment, more perplexed than angry. "Totsuka-san, did you give out my number?"

"Hmm?" When he looked up, Totsuka was blinking at him with genuine surprise. "I didn't. To be honest, I can't even remember your number." He shrugged, smiling a bit. "That's what the contacts system in the phone is for, right?"

"The fuck, then?" he muttered, turning his eyes back to the messages. "How the hell did he get it?"

"Oh? Is that Saru-kun texting you?" Totsuka hummed to himself, looking thoughtful for a moment. "I guess he must be really good with networks and stuff, then..."

Yata raised his head with the intention of asking what the hell that was supposed to mean, but had to change tracks when he found one of the guys from before standing at his till, watching him apprehensively. "Uh, sorry!" He hastily stowed his phone away, and tried to force a smile. "How did you want to pay?"

He could feel his phone buzz again as he took the payment, and his face twitched with the strain of keeping the smile. _Fucking leave me alone already - I'm trying to work, goddamnit!_

Even with that thought, though, he was already moving to pull his phone back out almost as soon as the last guy went through his till, heart racing and blood pumping hot through his veins.

'If you talk to everyone the same way you talk to your customers, it's no wonder you're still a virgin.'

He was hammering the keys with a response almost before he'd finished reading.

'as if u can tlk asshhole ur rude as fuckk' 3

After a second of considering it, he added another line.

'bet ur a vrgin too' 4

He glanced up at Fushimi's back - still no change that he could see from his vantage point - and then frowned down at his phone, waiting for the next response.

"That must be a really interesting conversation," Totsuka commented, drawing up a startled gaze. His smile had obvious amusement in it. "You two are actually getting pretty close already, huh?"

" _Hah?_ " Yata stared back at him incredulously. "No way am I getting any kind of close with that bast - " A buzz from his phone interrupted him; he abandoned the conversation to check it, without even thinking.

'I'm not the one who went to that party for "drunken makeouts".'

Yata clenched his teeth, annoyance rushing over the little flutter of something else that might have started in his belly. _That's a yes, isn't it? It means he is._ He shrugged that thought aside, moving to type furiously again.

Totsuka laughed softly from somewhere to his side. "He's definitely an interesting guy, huh?"

Hitting send on his latest response, Yata looked up to scowl. "What's so interesting about a jerk like that?" Somehow, the warm, knowing look he was getting back had that hot flush rising on his face again; he straightened defensively. "I'm telling you it's not like - "

Another buzz from his phone scattered that thought.

"Sure," Totsuka agreed easily, his tone light and playful, as Yata moved immediately to check the message. "Whatever you say."

That was kind of annoying, but it couldn't be helped. Yata frowned at his phone, moving again to type back a quick response.

The back-and-forth texting continued right up until dinnertime rush, but even when he was scrambling to serve customers, Yata still managed to catch sight of Fushimi's pale, thin figure cutting around the crowd by himself as he made his exit.

Somehow, his stomach was tightening and there was adrenaline pumping through him, and he couldn't quite convince himself it was new-job jitters.

* * *

Yata texting translations for those who can't read through the typos:

1 How the fuck did you get this number, you dick?  
2 Fuck you, just tell me how, you shithead  
3 As if you can talk, asshole, you're rude as fuck  
4 Bet you're a virgin, too


	6. Sick and Tired

**Building Bridges**

 **Sick and Tired**

There was a headache pounding at the inside of Fushimi's skull.

It had been building since around lunchtime, but he'd mostly ignored it through his afternoon classes. Before coming to work, he'd taken two painkillers with some water, but it actually felt like it was getting worse now, as he struggled through the lab exercises he'd been asked to design.

 _It's fine._ It was Friday, so he could sleep in tomorrow. He didn't have class over the weekend, and there was only that bothersome security team meeting - but that was on Sunday, so it wouldn't be an issue. The small amount of class work he'd been assigned that week had already been done, so there wasn't anything pressing to take care of.

Still, he had another hour of work to do before he could leave. Fushimi clicked his tongue - the simple movement felt sluggish, somehow. In front of him, the numbers he'd laid out seemed to blur and mix together; even when he pushed his glasses up to rub his index finger and thumb over his eyes, they didn't seem to clear.

His head hurt...

"Are you feeling all right?" When he looked up, Munakata was eyeing him with mild concern. "You're looking a bit unwell, Fushimi-kun."

"I'm fine." The response came out sharper than he'd intended; Fushimi frowned, turning his gaze back to the paper in front of him.

He just needed to focus. It shouldn't be that difficult, anyway, and once he was done with this, he could head to the cafeteria and have dinner while goading Yata into angry tirades. That had been the routine for his evenings this past week, although he didn't do office work on Tuesdays and Thursdays. But Yata worked every night, so he was easy to find, and even easier to provoke. It was so easy that Fushimi thought it almost shouldn't have been that interesting - but somehow, it always was.

 _Misaki's reactions are the best..._

Unfortunately, Yata's co-worker was always there, with his knowing eyes and warm smiles, which was the only downside. Totsuka made Fushimi uncomfortable, although he couldn't say exactly why. It didn't help that he'd taken to addressing him so personally.

 _I'll just ignore it._ Fushimi tried to shift his attention back to the work at hand, but it was surprisingly difficult. The room was stifling somehow; it was like the heat had drained him, and his head was still throbbing away. Even the prospect of Yata's angry face and burning gaze didn't seem to be worth expending energy on.

"Fushimi-kun." Munakata's cool, smooth voice cut through his thoughts cleanly, somehow acting as a grounding force. "Why don't you leave early today?"

He raised his eyes, meeting his boss's calm, even gaze. It was impossible to read that expression, but it was obvious he was being analyzed. "There's no reason to," he responded, not even bothering to keep the edge of irritation out of his voice. "I told you I'm fine."

"Still, it's not good to linger on a Friday." Munakata leaned back in his chair, threading his fingers together in front of him. "As a matter of fact, I have plans myself, so the office will be closed early, regardless." He smiled, confident and unassuming. "Please indulge my selfishness, and take the rest of the evening off."

Fushimi frowned. It felt like he was being manipulated, but there wasn't much for him to argue with in there. "Why do I feel like indulging your selfishness is going to become a theme?" he muttered instead, and pushed himself up. It took more effort than it should've to get himself to his feet, and the sudden rush of dizziness was unexpected. He steadied himself on the desk for a brief second, and then deliberately straightened. "I'm going, then."

"Take care."

The words had an obvious emphasis on them. Fushimi clicked his tongue, without bothering to respond. _He should mind his own business._

It was cooler outside, which only made the contrast between his heated skin and the crisp air around him much more stark and apparent. Fushimi pulled out his cell phone, trying to tune out the dull, insistent ache in his head. His vision had cleared a little, though, so he unlocked the screen and brought up his last text messages as he walked.

 **Misaki:** ur so annoying srsly y the fuck do u keep buggin me? 1

 **You:** You're the one who keeps answering. I can't help but think you enjoy it, Misaki.

 **Misaki:** stfu asshole i dont like it im just not losing to ur sorrry ass 2

 **You:** So it's a game to you, then? That only proves my point further.

 **Misaki:** wtf u make no sense shut up alrdy 3

The last one had come in while he'd been working, so he hadn't managed to answer yet. Fushimi shut his eyes briefly and managed a faint smile, picturing that angry, flushed face with its fierce glare and perpetual scowl. Yata asked him at least twice a day why he kept sending messages, and yet he always took the bait. _If you stopped replying, I probably wouldn't send so many._

He would never say that, though. If Yata stopped responding, his days would become long and boring again.

It was lucky for him that the cafeteria had updated their supposedly private staff contact page to include his roommate's cell phone number. He doubted that Yata remembered it existed; he'd probably been told about it when he started, but hadn't cared enough to even bother to look at it.

 _Well, I'm not going to tell him if he can't figure it out for himself._

Somehow, though, even the effort required to type back a response seemed beyond him. Fushimi's whole body was feeling hot and weak, and it was difficult to focus. Just the idea of food made his stomach feel like it was curling in on itself, too.

So, the cafeteria was out.

Fushimi sighed, locking his phone's screen and sliding it back into his pocket. It was fine - he'd go back to his room. He needed some peace and quiet, that was all. It was all the annoying people around him who were aggravating his headache and sapping his strength. Once he was back in his own private space, the heat and the pain and the weakness would go away on its own.

 _I just need to be alone._ Always, always better to be alone.

The walk back to the dorms felt like it took about five times longer than usual. By the time he reached the front entrance, he was breathing erratically, his knees felt shaky, and there was a gross sheen of sweat building up on his skin. _Annoying. Annoying. So annoying._

At least there was no one waiting for the elevator, although he passed a few of the other residents leaving. The doors opened immediately. Fushimi indulged the urge to lean against the wall inside of it as it moved upwards, gaining a small amount of relief from the feel of cool metal against his heated shoulder.

It was only for a few seconds, anyway.

When he opened his eyes at the ding of the elevator reaching his floor, his vision wavered again alarmingly and it was difficult to straighten up. He forced himself to keep moving down the hallway, reaching into his pocket with unusually clumsy fingers to fumble for his key. With his head pounding away and the lock swimming in front of his eyes, it took several agonizingly long minutes to finally wrench the door to his room open.

Once it was done and he was standing inside with the lights off and the door closed, everything seemed to grow still.

Fushimi had been entertaining the notion of opening his laptop to surf the internet - or play a game, or possibly even start a new project, since the data collection device was nearly done - but that suddenly felt like far too much effort. He shrugged off his jacket and let it fall without caring, eyeing the ladder that led up to his bunk with weary distaste.

His head hurt, and he was hot and tired and drained, and he just wanted to _sleep_.

Yata's bed wasn't made, but it didn't matter. It was close, and it was convenient. Fushimi's last semi-rational thought before he slumped down into it, clumsily sliding his glasses off and rolling over into a miserable curl, was that he probably couldn't catch terminal stupidity from a used pillowcase anyway.

* * *

The cafeteria was shutting down for the night, and Fushimi hadn't shown up.

It was kind of weird, considering how the rest of the week had gone. Yata frowned down at his phone, unsettled. He'd been checking it all the way through his shift, and still the last message on it was the same.

 **Shithead Saru:** So it's a game to you, then? That only proves my point further.

It was from almost five hours ago, and he'd responded right away, so what was the deal?

 _Not that I want to talk to that bastard._ But still, it was weird.

"Saru-kun isn't responding?" Totsuka asked, joining him just outside his till.

Yata hastily shoved his phone away into his pocket. "Like I care what he's doing."

"Hmm... it is kind of worrying, though, isn't it?" His friend raised a hand to his face, looking thoughtful. "He showed up here every day this week, and now he's not even sending messages... I wonder if something happened."

Something about that notion settled down into a small, uncomfortable knot at the pit of Yata's stomach. He turned to snatch up his skateboard from where he'd leaned it against the wall of the building, in an attempt to push that feeling down. "The fuck does it matter what happened to that asshole?"

"Well, if something did happen, I'm sure it's nothing serious," Totsuka continued, without answering him. "I mean, it's not very likely that he'd be mugged or beaten up on campus... and getting into an accident is pretty rare..." He shrugged, meeting Yata's frown with a bright smile. "I'm sure everything's fine!"

"Y-Yeah..." That stuff... wasn't likely. Right?

 _Whatever - it's not like I care!_

Still...

Fuck. "I'll meet you at Homra, okay?" He threw down his skateboard onto the sidewalk.

Totsuka looked mildly startled. "Aren't you coming now?"

"I need to stop by my room." It was hard to meet his friend's eyes; Yata scowled down at his feet as he stepped one up onto his board. "I'm not gonna be long."

"Okay, sure." Totsuka accepted that easily, and even without looking it was possible to feel that warm gaze. "See you soon."

"Right, see you." He hastily kicked off before it got more embarrassing.

 _I'll just quickly check and then leave._ If Fushimi was there, then whatever, problem solved - not that it was a problem or anything. He was just being a responsible roommate, that's all. It was normal to look into this kind of thing, even if you didn't like the person much. Just... something anyone would do, really. He wasn't worried.

And if Fushimi wasn't there...

 _Then he's probably out with friends._ Except that Yata hadn't seen him with anyone else since Monday, and even that had seemed kind of strained. _Or, I dunno, working in the computer labs._ Except that Fushimi always seemed to do his classwork at the dorm on his laptop. _Maybe he's just working late._ Except that he worked as a TA, and the buildings with offices were all locked down at nine. _Maybe he just went somewhere else, who knows._ Except...

 _Shut up!_ Yata clenched his teeth, propelling himself faster down the sidewalk to ease his own frustration. _He'll be at the stupid room, as annoying as ever, and if he's not, then it's not my fucking problem, so - so whatever!_

By the time he arrived at the dorm, he was too agitated to stand still, so he ended up pacing while waiting for the elevator to come down, obviously making the dorm supervisor nervous, if the glances she darted in his direction were any indication. Even the short trip inside the elevator had him shifting his skateboard from one hand to the other with a nervous tension he didn't entirely want to admit to feeling.

 _Seriously, if you're not dead or something, I'm kicking your ass!_

When he finally opened the door to his room and found the lights out and Fushimi curled up on his bed, he wasn't really sure what to do with the rush of mixed relief and irritation.

"Oi, what the hell, _Saru_?" He flipped the light on, leaning his skateboard against the wall before stalking across the room. "Don't just sleep in my bed!"

Fushimi shifted minutely on the bed as if to curl in on himself more, and made a low, pathetic sound.

 _He's that tired?_ It kind of made sense. Over the five days they'd been rooming together, Yata had noticed that Fushimi's sleeping habits were at least as awful as his eating habits (which were pretty damn bad). He was still at his desk every night by the time Yata fell asleep, and based on the shifting above him in the morning - and late at night if he happened to wake up - he was a restless sleeper, too. It was no wonder he got so tired by the end of the week that he completely passed out.

 _He didn't have to do it on my bed, though!_ Feeling affronted, Yata bent over his sleeping roommate, reaching out without thinking to tug at his shoulder. "Come on, you asshole, just go up to your own - "

The heat against his fingers was enough to bring that thought to a halt.

 _Wait, wait, wait... is he...?_ Yata gave another tug, less aggressive this time, and managed to shift Fushimi onto his back. His roommate's face was alarmingly red, and his breathing sounded harsh. When he slid a palm against that flushed forehead, it was hot to the touch.

"Shit..." Yata pulled back his hand, staring down at Fushimi's face with a kind of stunned dismay. He was definitely sick, and it looked pretty bad.

 _Now what?_

Fushimi shifted again, his eyes sliding about halfway open to gaze up at Yata with hazy confusion. "... Misaki...?" he mumbled, almost too quietly to catch, and then squinted, fumbling with one hand in an instinctive search for his glasses.

Somehow, that weak, baffled-sounding whisper tugged at him. "Yeah, it's me, jerk." The words came out too soft to be effective, but it didn't matter much right then. "And you're sick, so just stay right there, okay?"

He started to lean back away from the bed, but Fushimi's hand caught his wrist before he could. When he glanced down, startled, that fever-bright gaze was on him, muddled and desperate behind his clumsily placed glasses.

"Wh-What?" Yata felt his skin prickle, an unsettled feeling stirring in his stomach. It wasn't like he couldn't have pulled free - he was pretty sure he was stronger even without Fushimi being sick - but something about the way those thin, hot fingers clung to him made him feel strange and unsure. "I-I'm not going anywhere, dumbass," he managed, trying to fall back into his comfort zone somehow. "I just - you need covers on you, and something cold for your head, and probably some water and medicine or something..." He let that trail off, then cleared his throat, embarrassed. "Anyway, I'll be here, so just let me take care of all that stuff!"

Fushimi's gaze flickered from Yata's face to his own clenched hand with a kind of sleep-addled bafflement, as if he didn't understand his own actions. "'Take care'..." he mumbled, like he was trying the words out for the first time. His eyes were lidded when they looked up again, but they seemed to be packed full of feelings that Yata didn't understand. He could feel his own face growing hot under that stare, and fought the urge to squirm and look away.

 _What the hell is this, anyway?_

Yata swallowed hard, and tried again. "R-Right. I'll take care of you, okay?" He reached over with his free hand and awkwardly patted Fushimi's fingers. "I'll be here, so you don't need to hold onto me like that. All right?"

He didn't know if the reassurance was enough or if Fushimi was just too exhausted to continue, but either way his roommate seemed to sink back down against the pillow, eyes fluttering shut and grip going slack.

Yata shut his own eyes and let out a long breath - then opened them again, determined. _All right..._ He peeled off the fingers on his wrist carefully, and set Fushimi's arm down on the bed, reaching down to pull the covers up and over him. _I can do this! I've got two siblings, right? At least by now, I can manage to take care of one sick person by myself._ He marched over to his side of the room, purposefully. _Just watch me!_

There was a first aid kit that had been a going away present from his mother and step-father in his top drawer, so he snatched that up first and left it beside the bed. There wasn't any ice, but he could get a bowl of cold water and soak some clean washcloths instead. And it'd be a good idea to grab a glass of water for drinking too, while he was at it.

With that plan in mind, he hurried out of the room, stopping only long enough to shut the light off again.

Fushimi didn't even seem to have stirred when he came back, which was probably for the best. Yata dampened one of the washcloths, folded it like his mother had done once for his siblings, and laid it across his roommate's forehead. Fushimi flinched, and his eyelids flickered behind the glasses, but he didn't wake up.

 _Good._ Yata nodded to himself, sitting back on his heels for a moment. He had some fever-reduction medicine in the first aid kit, but he'd have to wake Fushimi up to get him to take it. He wasn't really sure about the best timing to do that.

 _I wonder when he last ate..._ Probably a long time ago. The only meal Yata knew for sure that Fushimi ate every day was dinner, and that was because he came to the cafeteria to pester him during his shift. For all he knew, the idiot skipped breakfast and lunch. It seemed like the kind of thing he'd do.

That was kind of worrying, but it couldn't be helped. _All right! I'll make rice porridge, and he can take the medicine with that. It'd help, right?_ Yata studied his roommate's face a bit anxiously while he thought about it. The flush was stark against Fushimi's pale skin, even in the dim light provided by his cell phone. Lying in bed with his eyes closed, face slack and the rhythm of his breathing erratic, he seemed oddly vulnerable.

The warmth that built up fast in Yata's chest at that thought had him clenching his hands into fists in sudden, fierce embarrassment. "I-It's almost like you need some kind of caretaker or something," he muttered, hastily pushing himself to his feet as he tried to recover himself. "Stupid asshole. At least learn to eat properly."

His phone buzzed as he was leaving the room again; when he checked, there was a message from Totsuka.

 **Totsuka Tatara:** everything all right?

 _Fuck._ He'd forgotten about going out to Homra tonight. Yata grimaced, hastily typing back as he made his way to the kitchen again.

 **You:** ya fien but i wont maek it tonite soryr 4

He was pulling out some of the ingredients Totsuka had bought for him when the response came.

 **Totsuka Tatara:** did something happen?

Yata scowled at his phone for a moment. He didn't really like the idea of admitting that he was taking care of the guy he'd been complaining about all week, but it wasn't like he was going to lie to Totsuka. After a brief moment of hesitation, he typed back.

 **You:** stupid saru is sick im stayin so he dosnt die or somthn 5

He busied himself with digging through the pots in the cupboards until his phone buzzed again.

 **Totsuka Tatara:** ok, let me know if you need anything. and take good care of saru-kun

Somehow, that last bit got heat rising on his cheeks again. "I'd do that with you telling me," he grumbled, and turned back to his task.

This time, when he came back into the room with the bowl of food, Fushimi stirred and opened his eyes, blinking at Yata blurrily as he approached the bed. "... what're you doing...?" he mumbled, weakly.

"Heh, perfect timing." Yata grinned back at him, satisfied with how nicely that had worked out. "I made rice porridge, so eat what you can. Oh, and there's water and medicine for you, so take those, too." He set the bowl down carefully beside the bed. "You probably need help sitting up, right? I'll grab your pillow from the top bunk."

Fushimi stared at him as he started for the ladder. His brow had furrowed with a kind of wary confusion. "... why?"

"Eh?" Yata stilled with one foot up, blinking at his roommate. "What do you mean 'why'? You want to get better, right? Eat and take your medicine, dumbass." He hefted himself up and reached for the pillow, just managing to snag it without having to go the rest of the way.

When he came back down, Fushimi was watching him with hooded eyes. "Why... are you doing this?"

"Hah? Why shouldn't I?" Honestly, it was kind of embarrassing; Yata scratched awkwardly at his cheek, and turned his gaze somewhere off to the side. "Today, it was kind of like... I guess... I might've been - you know - a little worried about you. Or something."

Silence answered him; when he risked a glance back, somehow it became hard to breathe. There was a sort of starved look in Fushimi's eyes - hazy and only partly self-aware, but probably more honest than he'd ever been fully conscious.

Yata swallowed, and tried to ignore the way his heart thundered against his chest. He didn't really get what that look meant, but something inside him squirmed a little with pleasure at being the focus of it. "A-Anyway, you need to eat, so sit up!"

It was obviously a struggle for Fushimi to push himself up, so Yata wedged the pillow in behind him quickly, the way his mother had done for him, back in the day. He could feel the heat radiating from his roommate's body; once they were done and he was propped up in a semi-reclined pose, his face was still flushed and his eyes were clouded.

 _I'll take care of you, got that?_ The thought surprised him a little with its fierceness; he had to force back the confusing blend of emotion rising at the back of his throat in order to focus on what he was supposed to be doing. "Right. So. Medicine first."

Fushimi was alert enough to swallow back the pills and down the entire glass of water without help; he took the offered bowl afterwards with hands that only shook a little, and raised the spoon to his mouth. The first bite had him blinking with some surprise. "... pineapple?"

"It's how my mom always made it," Yata responded, a bit defensively. "Anyway, you don't eat vegetables, so there wasn't much else I could put in there. Pineapple's good for you, so eat it."

Fushimi's gaze slid from him to the bowl, almost warily; he seemed to consider his options. "Tastes weird..."

Yata scowled at him. "I didn't ask for your opinion!" He let out his breath in a quick huff, crossing his arms. "Anyway, I went out of my way to make it for you, so don't waste it."

The edges of Fushimi's mouth inched up in a small smile; he shut his eyes for a moment, as if content, and then lifted the spoon again.

They didn't talk at all as he struggled to finish off the porridge. Yata sat at the side of the bed and made some show of fussing with his phone while darting glances in that direction until Fushimi finally lowered the bowl, leaving the spoon resting against the last dregs of rice inside. He didn't say anything when Yata took it from him, and made no protest when he was told to lean forward and the pillow was pulled out so that he could lie down flat again.

"Just sleep it off now, okay?" Yata moved to dampen another washcloth. "I'll be here if you need anything, so don't worry."

"... not worried." Fushimi reached up to slide his glasses off, setting them off to the side of the bed that pressed against the wall, and shut his eyes, letting out a small, weary-sounding sigh. "Idiot..."

Yata frowned at him, a bit disgruntled. "Who's the one who got himself sick, huh?"

There was no answer; Fushimi's breathing had deepened again.

 _What, already?_ Yata sighed, letting go of the remains of his irritation and managing a small, rueful smile. _If you could fall asleep like this when you're healthy, you probably wouldn't get sick in the first place._

He folded the cloth in his hands and laid it against Fushimi's forehead again, earning himself another little twitch. The temperature of his skin seemed to have gone down a little - or maybe that was just wishful thinking. Yata stared at his face for a moment, unsure if the feelings that caused his stomach to flutter and his chest to tighten were good or not.

Hell, he wasn't even sure what he was feeling. It was... weird. Fushimi was still the same asshole as before, but...

 _He's also that cool guy from the party I wanted to know._ The thought snuck into his head without warning, and Yata jerked his gaze away from his roommate's face, feeling flustered. _Whatever - anyway! I'm sure as hell not sitting here staring at him all night!_

With that decided, he pushed himself up and went to find his portable game console.

* * *

It was light in the room when Fushimi woke up - there was enough sun filtering in through the window that it had to be at least mid-morning. He was groggy and weak, his throat was dry, and he felt sticky and gross from sweating.

But his head didn't hurt as much, and the burning feeling from before had faded out to a mildly uncomfortable warmth.

Even with his limited vision, he could make out the unfamiliar shape of the top bunk looming above him. _I'm in Misaki's bed._ Fushimi groped for his glasses, trying to piece together the previous night as he found them and slid the frame over his nose. He'd come back to the dorm after Munakata had essentially kicked him out of the office, and then passed out on Yata's bed rather than trying to get up to his own. Then Yata had come back, and -

And.

Beside him, someone was breathing evenly. Fushimi turned his head on the pillow and took in Yata's peacefully sleeping face from less than a foot away. The unexpected discovery had his skin prickling up, heart rate increasing noticeably. Yata fit awkwardly into the small amount of space left between Fushimi and the edge, lying on his side with the pillow from the top bunk under his head. Barely half of the pillow fit on the bed, the rest hanging precariously off the side just behind him.

 _Why would he stay here?_

The question had only just entered his mind when the answer became clear. There was something warm clutched in his hand - warm and _alive_ ; he could just barely feel the thrum of a pulse at the base of Yata's wrist where his thumb was pressed over it. And he thought he remembered something... Sitting up for a drink of water late into the night, having the cup taken from him and Yata's warmth start to withdraw, hearing some half-muttered plan of going up to sleep in Fushimi's bed.

 _Don't go._ He'd reached out without even thinking - the second time that night, even. Despite a lifetime of irrefutable proof that reaching for things was foolish, his body had once again reacted without his conscious mind's consent.

And, somehow, against all odds, it had worked - Yata had stayed. He'd been flustered and stuttering and maybe a little outraged, but he hadn't pulled away in the end. He was _still there_.

Something stirred at the pit of Fushimi's stomach, small and uncertain but with a potency that took his breath away. _"I'll take care of you, okay?"_ the memory of Yata's voice declared, clear as ever at the back of his head.

 _Take care..._

It had always seemed like a strange, unfathomable concept to him - this idea of 'taking care' of another person - but Yata had done it. He'd given up his bed, brought water and food - food he'd made himself, entirely for Fushimi's sake - and stayed there all night. For a person he claimed to hate.

Really, it didn't make any sense at all, but somehow the idea of it settled within him, comfortable and soothing, and he didn't want to reject it. Fushimi allowed himself to relax again, studying Yata's face and feeling the warm weight of Yata's wrist under his fingers. There was something undeniably pleasant about being allowed to look, and be close, and _feel_.

He didn't know what that made Yata to him, now. The idea of trying to classify it felt bothersome.

 _It doesn't matter, anyway._ If he could just stay like this for a little while longer, it didn't matter at all.

Fushimi was just on the verge of dozing off again when Yata stirred, nose wrinkling a bit as he shifted into wakefulness, and then his eyes slid open slowly. For a moment, he stared hazily at Fushimi as if not sure where he was or what was happening, and then they abruptly went wide. He gave a full-body jerk and promptly fell backwards off the bed.

The sudden, sharp tug against the grip Fushimi had on his wrist pulled his arm sideways and had his hand slipping down along the palm of Yata's hand instead.

"Ow, _fuck_!" Yata abruptly sat up, rolling the shoulder he'd probably just strained with a surly expression. "What the hell?"

"Good morning to you too," Fushimi drawled, and raised his eyebrows when he got a glare in return. "What? I didn't push you off the bed, so don't look at me like it's my fault."

"Yeah, yeah," Yata grumbled, brushing himself off in an obvious attempt to reclaim some of his dignity. "Obviously you're feeling better, since you're back to being annoying as hell." He paused then, seeming to notice their joined hands for the first time, and blinked several times in rapid succession, a slow blush creeping onto his cheeks.

The sight somehow sent a little wave of hot embarrassment to Fushimi's face as well; he clicked his tongue, hoping the flush wasn't noticeable under the remains of his fever, and withdrew his hand. It immediately felt cold, and he curled his fingers into a ball to cover it.

 _Stupid..._

Yata cleared his throat awkwardly. "Right, so." There was still some red on his face, but he pushed himself to his feet as if determined to push past it. "You're probably still kind of sick, right? I'll go get some water, then make something for breakfast, so stay there and rest up." He started for the door.

"Misaki." The name escaped him before he fully thought it through; Fushimi frowned to himself even as he watched Yata pause with his hand on the doorknob, turning back with a questioning look. He clicked his tongue again. "... Never mind."

"You're still calling me that..." Yata sighed and shut his eyes, scratching his head, and then turned away abruptly. "I-I'm gonna use your first name, too," he muttered, glancing back over his shoulder with a scowl that was more embarrassed than annoyed, "so - so be prepared!"

He was already yanking the door open and bolting out into the hallway before Fushimi could think of a possible response.

For a moment after the door slammed shut, all he could do was blink at it, unsure what to think. Then he let out a soft 'heh' and relaxed his head against the pillow, feeling the beginning of a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. _So you're saying it's okay to call you that?_ Somehow, the idea was even better than using it to piss him off. "Misaki," he murmured, testing it out again. _The name only I'm allowed to use._

It was a heady feeling, having an entire aspect of another person all to himself.

The door opened again less than two minutes later, and Misaki returned to the bed with a glass of water in his hand. He frowned skeptically at Fushimi. "Do you still need a pillow or can you sit up on your own?"

"It's fine." Most of the weakness from the previous night had gone; what was left was probably the last dregs of whatever virus he'd had being systematically killed off by his body's natural defenses. Fushimi pushed himself upright, shifting to lean against the headboard, and took the offered glass. "... thank you."

The words tasted awkward, somehow.

"Heh. That sounds weird coming from you." Misaki sank down to a seat on the side of the bed, leaning back on his hands and turning his head towards Fushimi. "But, yeah, you're welcome." He smiled, eyes softening almost imperceptibly.

There was something inexplicably warm in that smile. Fushimi watched it through his lashes as he raised the glass to his mouth, once again feeling the stirring of something small and undefinable within him - a tiny light, flickering and unsure, but so vibrant it took his breath away.

Maybe Misaki's angry face wasn't his best expression, after all.

* * *

Yata texting translations for those who can't read through the typos:

1 You're so annoying, seriously; why the fuck do you keep bugging me?  
2 Shut the fuck up, asshole. I don't like it - I'm just not losing to your sorry ass  
3 What the fuck? You make no sense - shut up already  
4 Yeah, fine, but I won't make it tonight, sorry  
5 Stupid Saru is sick. I'm staying so he doesn't die or something


	7. Jealousy

**Building Bridges**

 **Jealousy**

When Yata woke up to his phone's alarm on Monday morning, it felt like an ordinary day.

There wasn't anything different about pushing himself reluctantly out of bed or moving to get ready for his lessons. The room hadn't changed. He hadn't changed. And the sound of restless shifting from above him hadn't changed.

But it really felt like _something_ had changed.

 _Nothing really happened, though._ Yata tugged on his favorite beanie absent-mindedly as he headed for the kitchen. _I mean, I spent most of the weekend just hanging out here._

Hanging out in his dorm room, with his roommate - who also happened to be the asshole he'd been bitching about to his friends all week. And who apparently had a side to him that was... not - not that bad. Really.

Yata felt his face warm a bit, remembering it. Fushimi - _Saruhiko_ \- had dozed on and off through Saturday, but had been aware enough sometime late in the afternoon to argue about video games and which ones were worthwhile, ending with him downloading a new one on Yata's portable console somehow. They'd played it for several hours afterward, with Saruhiko propped up against the headboard on the bed with his laptop on his lap and Yata sitting cross-legged at the other end hunched over his console - and somehow, he'd forgotten to go to Homra for the second night in a row, which earned him a text from Kamamoto wondering where he was.

A text he hadn't noticed until Sunday morning, by which point there were four others and a missed call along with it.

 _It was - fuck, okay, it was just fun._ Yata pulled out the ingredients for omelet rice - there were limited dishes that he could make with the ingredients he had, and this was one that was quick and not really a bad breakfast - with restless agitation. _Anyway, we're probably friends now, right? Or something like that._ It didn't feel quite the same as it did with his other friends, though. And Saruhiko had made more than a few comments that had got on his nerves, but somehow it just... wasn't exactly the same as before, either.

Something had changed, but he didn't know what - and it was really making him nervous.

He measured out the rice for a single serving, then stopped, remembering a thought from Friday night. _That guy probably doesn't eat breakfast..._ For a moment, he hesitated, feeling vaguely embarrassed about it, and then let out his breath in a huff and dug back into the bag for more.

 _It's just so he doesn't get sick again, that's all!_ Yata scowled down at his hands as he closed the bag and put it away, feeling that traitorous flush creeping back onto his face again. _I don't want to give up another Friday night for that guy just because he won't bother to fucking eat._

The excuse was a good enough one that he could continue without hesitation, but it still took a while for the heat on his cheeks to cool.

* * *

When Fushimi woke up on Monday morning, the room was quiet, there was light filtering in through the window, and something smelled good.

 _Omelet...?_

He slid his glasses on and sat up, doing a quick scan of the room before his gaze settled on the covered plate sitting on his desk. There was a folded slip of paper tucked under it.

For a moment, he just sat there, staring at the unexpected item.

 _Seriously?_

After he'd climbed down the ladder and unfolded the note, he could confirm that, yes, it _seriously_ was Misaki's cooking.

'made too much rice so take this and don't waste it.'

A slow smile was already tugging at the corners of his lips before he'd finished reading. Fushimi folded the note again and set it back down, feeling the strange little stirring at the pit of his stomach that he was already starting to associate with his roommate. "You made it for me, right, Misaki?" he murmured, and felt a little rush of satisfaction on imagining the furious sputtering he'd have gotten as a response if he weren't alone in the room.

Normally, he didn't eat breakfast. Yesterday - and the day before, actually, but not much about Saturday really counted, considering his condition - had been an exception, since Misaki had just gone ahead and made food under the excuse that Fushimi needed to get his strength back before going out.

Apparently, today was another.

There was no point in expecting it to become a trend. Fushimi peeled off a corner of the wrap that covered the plate, breathing in the rich scent. Things like this weren't permanent. Anything good could, and likely would, be taken from you at any moment. It was a lesson that had been burned into his brain ages ago.

For now, though...

 _Misaki's smile, bright and easy, his eyes staring at Fushimi with open fondness..._

For now, he would be eating breakfast.

* * *

The Homra bar was nearly deserted when Yata stepped in after his lessons ended, with Kamamoto on his heels. "Yo, Kusanagi-san!"

His older friend smiled easily at him from behind the bar counter. "Afternoon, Yata-chan, Kamamoto. How was it today?"

"It was awesome, of course!" Yata responded, enthusiastically. "Mikoto-san really knows his stuff - right, Kamamoto?"

He got the expected nod and grin. "Right!"

"Mm, glad to hear it." Kusanagi turned his gaze towards the small girl at the far end of the bar. "Did you want some more milk, Anna?"

"No." She turned her calm, serious gaze towards Yata. "Is Mikoto coming back?"

It would've been hard not to have your heart warm a little for that. Anna had been living at Kusanagi's bar since shortly after Yata himself had been pulled into the group of friends who regularly hung out there. Her family situation was... complicated, apparently, but she seemed more attached to Mikoto than anyone else.

 _That's part of why Mikoto-san is awesome, though!_

Yata softened his smile, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Ah - yeah. I think he went to get some food from the cafeteria first."

"Should've guessed." Kusanagi smiled ruefully. "You're working tonight, aren't you, Yata-chan?"

"Yeah, yeah, just like every night." He moved in to lean against the counter, with a sigh. "I told Mikoto-san he should come when I'm on shift - I mean, it's not like we're busy right at the start - but he didn't want to wait."

"Ah, that's too bad." He got a bit of a shrug with that. "Is it just the two of you today?"

"Yeah. The others are busy, or something. I guess."

"Actually, I can't stay either." Kamamoto checked his watch. "I'm meeting Ayumi in half an hour, so - "

"Right, yeah, that girlfriend of yours..." Yata turned, leaning his elbows back against the bar and frowning at his friend. "Just make sure you don't always ditch us for her, got that?"

Kamamoto gave him a funny look for that. "Yata-san... just this past Saturday..."

"Hah? _What_ about this past Saturday?" And what did that even have to do with anything? So he'd spent a night playing games in his room with Saruhiko - so what? Why bring it up _now_? Yata narrowed his eyes, the frown shifting to a scowl. "If you've got something you want to say to me, then just say it!"

"Eh... never mind." Kamamoto waved an apologetic hand. "Sorry, but I have to go."

Yata watched him leave with a certain amount of confusion. "The hell was that about?" he muttered, half-turning again to glance back at Kusanagi in case he had an answer.

He got a shrug and a bit of a smile in return, which wasn't much help. "Are you still coming on Friday night?"

"Huh?" Yata raised an eyebrow at him. _Where the hell did that come from?_ "Why wouldn't I?"

Kusanagi looked like he was about to respond, but the door to the bar swung open before he could. "Welco - oh, Seri-chan!"

A tall, graceful-looking blonde woman entered the bar, walking briskly to the counter. Yata shifted a little more towards Anna, feeling his cheeks grow hot as she took a seat on one of the stools. _Seri-chan?_

"Good afternoon," she said, with maybe a bit more of a crisp tone than he would've expected.

Kusanagi smiled back. "Always a pleasure to see you, Seri-chan. I would've thought you'd show up later in the day, though."

"I'm covering an early shift for one of the part-timers tomorrow," she explained without preamble, and leaned forward. "Martini - dry. Three scoops of red bean paste."

He visibly winced at that, but moved to start mixing the drink.

Yata really couldn't blame him for that reaction. He didn't know much about alcohol, but... "Fucking weird," he muttered, under his breath.

Apparently this 'Seri' woman had very sharp ears, because she turned to fix him with a cool gaze. "I don't remember your face. Are you a student at this school?"

An immediate rush of heat rose up his neck and across his cheeks; he mentally cursed himself. "Uh - I - um - "

"Yata-chan just started apprenticing with Mikoto this year," Kusanagi saved him, and then offered an amused smile. "He's still a little rough around the edges, so cut him some slack, huh?"

"O-Oi! Kusanagi-san!" Yata straightened defensively, feeling the remains of the blush across his face.

"I see." The woman turned away from him again, just in time to take her finished drink. "Well, as long as he's capable of keeping his hands to himself, there shouldn't be any problems." She delicately stirred the awful-looking thing, dissolving the scoops of paste, and shot Kusanagi a meaninful look. "I had a run-in with another of Suoh's students just last week."

"Oh, right, I heard about that."

 _A 'run-in'...?_ Yata puzzled over that for a second, then it clicked - Bandou's unlucky attempt at bagging a girlfriend. "Ah! You're that campus security ice princess!"

She shot him another long-suffering look, and then turned her eyes up to Kusanagi again. "What on earth are you telling these boys about me?"

Kusanagi raised his hands in a kind of half-hearted defensive motion. "Aren't you well-known for being strict already, Seri-chan?" He hesitated for just a second, and then added, "I'll admit, the 'princess' bit is new to me..."

"Honestly..." She sighed, sounding exasperated, and looked ready to say more, but was interrupted by a buzzing sound from her purse. "One moment." Even as she pushed away from the bar and stood, she was already pulling out a cell phone, bringing it up to her ear and answering in that cool, crisp tone from before. "Awashima."

Yata sidled closer to Anna, trying not to pay attention as the "ice princess" moved a short distance away to take her call. _Head of campus security, huh?_ He kind of remembered now, especially hearing the name 'Awashima'. Bandou had been pretty crushed.

 _He's crazy to hit on a woman like that, anyway._

"I'm sorry." Awashima returned to the bar, pulling a wallet from her purse. "I'm afraid I'll have to cut this visit short - I have to go make a delivery."

Kusanagi looked a little surprised. "Not a problem, but - a delivery? I thought you had enough staff to take care of things like that."

"Normally, yes, but I'm told there was a small incident at the library." She pulled out a card and held it out to him. "Due to a certain evening class, we don't have most of our part-timers on Monday, and I approved some time off this week. At the moment, there's nobody available to make this delivery but me."

Kusanagi frowned thoughtfully, not moving to take the card yet. "It's not some kind of sensitive information, is it?"

She tipped her head at him quizzically. "No. Why?"

"Well, I thought I might offer the services of a conveniently available welding apprentice with some time on his hands." Kusanagi turned his head to smile at Yata. "How about it, Yata-chan? Think you can help a lady in her time of need?"

" _Hah?_ But - Kusanagi-san - " He swallowed, ducking his head again with embarrassment as Awashima looked his way. "R-Right, I guess I could do it."

There was a momentary pause. When Awashima spoke again, her voice was slightly dubious. "I suppose that _would_ be helpful..."

"Ah, no need to worry - Yata-chan's trustworthy enough," Kusanagi assured her. "Anyway, that way you can sit back down and finish your..." - at that point, his voice took on a slightly pained note - "... martini."

"All right." Awashima efficiently stowed her wallet again and turned, face softening just a little with a slight smile. "In that case, thank you... was it Yata-kun?"

"Y-Yeah." He scratched at the back of his neck, feeling more than a little awkward about it. "Right. L-Leave it to me."

"Misaki," Anna said suddenly, and he quickly darted a glance back at her. She regarded him seriously. "Good luck."

Somehow, he got the feeling he was going to need it.

* * *

The academics building was huge, and looked kind of official - Yata felt a little awkward about bringing his skateboard in, but it wasn't like he was going to just leave it outside for someone to run off with, so he tucked it under his free arm and set his face in a scowl in case someone wanted to make an issue out of it. In the end, though, no one really paid him any attention - in fact, there weren't that many people around in general.

 _Huh. Maybe everyone's in class or something._

The office he wanted was on the first floor, and according to the directions he'd been given, shouldn't be too far from the entrance he'd just come in from. Yata wandered down the hall looking at the tags at the side of the doors for the name he'd been given. _Munakata, right?_

Why did that sound familiar?

Whatever - there it was. And the door was open slightly, too. Yata hefted his skateboard and transferred the package to that hand so he could knock, pushing the door open as he did. "Hey - someone here wanted a delivery? It's from Awashima."

He had barely a second to take in the two people sitting in the desks facing each other inside that small office, and so it registered in his brain exactly who he was looking at in the smaller desk just as that person seemed to recover from their initial surprise, chair halfway pushed out and leaning forward to stare at him. "Misaki?"

"Sa - Saruhiko!" The unexpected discovery stirred up a small flurry in his belly; Yata blinked, momentarily forgetting to breathe.

 _Why is he - ?_

"Is this a friend of yours, Fushimi-kun?" The unfamiliar voice was enough to pull his attention away; Yata jerked his head back to the other person in the room. It was a taller man, with smooth dark hair and calm blue eyes behind thin-framed glasses. He smiled, tilting his head inquiringly. "I don't believe we've met before."

Saruhiko clicked his tongue, and Yata caught him turning his gaze off to the side with a frown. "He's my roommate."

"I see." The man glanced at Saruhiko with a certain fond tolerance before stepping towards the door. "My name is Munakata Reisi - Fushimi-kun is working as my teaching assistant."

Something about that look gathered up into a little pit of annoyance inside Yata. He narrowed his eyes, not bothering to soften the scowl already twisting on his lips. _What's this guy's deal?_ Saruhiko worked for him, right? A boss shouldn't look at employees like that - it was weird. "Yata... Misaki." He switched the package over to his free hand again, and held it out. "Here - your mail."

The little smile on Munakata's face didn't alter, but a flicker of something like interest seemed to spark in his eyes. "Thank you for the quick delivery," he responded, reaching out to take the offered item. "I hope you didn't go too far out of your way. In all honesty, this could have waited until tomorrow, but I have to admire Awashima-kun's unbending sense of duty." He looked over to the side again. "Fushimi-kun, if you have a moment?"

Saruhiko clicked his tongue again, but pushed his chair away from the desk fully and moved toward them. "What?"

"I thought you might make good use of this." Munakata held out the package to him.

A tense knot seemed to form in Yata's chest as he watched Saruhiko reach out to take it. His roommate's expression was mildly suspicious, but somehow that didn't do a thing to soothe the irritation crawling up the back of his throat. _Why should a boss give his employees presents? That's creepy, isn't it? It's creepy, damnit!_

Saruhiko tore the package open deftly from the top and pulled out a heavy-looking book. "'Advanced Practical Mathematics Problems'," he read out loud, and looked up to frown at his boss. "What do you want me to do with this?"

Munakata smiled back, not seeming phased at all by the unfriendly reception to his gift. It was annoying how calm he was, really. "Whatever you like," he responded, simply. "You seemed bored by the lack of challenge in the simpler mathematics courses. I thought this might pique your interest a little more. However, if it's not to your taste, you can feel free to shelve it here." He indicated towards the bookshelves lining the room.

 _What the hell kind of offer is that?_ Yata turned his scowl on Saruhiko, but found himself ignored; his roommate had opened the book and was leafing through the pages, expression speculative. _Who gets someone a math book as a gift?_

He didn't know why, but it really bugged the hell out of him. His chest felt tight, and his head felt hot, and Saruhiko was just standing there looking at that stupid book like it was actually something good... Yata's fingers clenched around the side of his skateboard; his free hand twitched, like it wanted to form up into a fist all on its own.

Munakata cleared his throat delicately; when Yata jerked his gaze back that way, he found himself being studied with calm, knowing eyes. "You don't have to wait around if you have somewhere to be, Yata-kun." There was something self-assured and indulgent in that gaze; it was really fucking irritating. "Although, if you wanted to take a break and visit with your friend for a moment, Fushimi-kun..."

The idle flip of pages halted. Saruhiko frowned down at the book, hesitating, and suddenly Yata didn't want to hear him refuse the offer.

"Yeah, I've got work soon, so I'm gonna go." He shifted his gaze as soon as Saruhiko looked up and met his eyes, feeling tense and bothered, and shot one more scowl in Munakata's direction before turning to leave. "See ya."

As if it was a parting blow, the only response he got came from that stupid professor. "It was nice to meet you, Yata-kun. I'm sure we'll cross paths again one day."

 _Not if I can fucking help it._ Yata clenched his teeth, fighting the urge to respond with something rude as he stalked back down the hallway, suddenly itching to hop on his skateboard and get away from there as fast as possible. His chest felt like it was burning, and his stomach was tied up in uncomfortable knots.

He really didn't like Munakata Reisi. At all.

* * *

"How interesting."

Fushimi glanced warily at his boss, but apparently that comment wasn't directed at him. Munakata was still gazing after Misaki, looking faintly amused. "What?"

"Nothing terribly important," Munakata responded, with a mild, pleasant little smile that immediately sparked suspicion in Fushimi's chest. "Your roommate wouldn't happen to be one of Suoh Mikoto's students, would he?"

That habit of honing in on facts he had no business knowing was really annoying. Fushimi clicked his tongue. "Should I even ask how you managed to guess that?"

Munakata chuckled. "Pure intuition. You had asked me about Suoh once before, so it seemed logical to assume someone near you was studying under him." He paused for a brief moment before adding, thoughtfully, "He also seems to attract a certain type, in his particular program."

Fushimi frowned at that. He wasn't particularly curious about Misaki's precious 'Mikoto-san', but for whatever reason, he just felt like pressing a bit. "It sounds like you know him pretty well."

"We've known each other for some time." There was nothing in Munakata's expression that gave the slightest hint that he was taken off-guard by the question. "I could certainly introduce you if you're interested."

The tiny amount of interest he'd had evaporated at that. "No thanks."

"I see." Even after he'd turned away, it was like he could feel that canny gaze on the back of his head. "Feel free to let me know if you change your mind."

 _I won't change my mind._ Fushimi didn't bother to respond to that out loud, sliding back into his seat with an irritated sigh. He wasn't even really sure why he'd asked in the first place. Misaki showing up at his workplace must have surprised him enough to scramble his wits. It had definitely been unexpected, although not... exactly unwelcome.

A tiny part of him wondered if maybe that sudden rush of adrenaline and the accompanying increase to his heart rate was the same reaction Misaki got when he showed up at the cafeteria.

Somehow, he liked the thought of that.

 _I'll watch for it tonight._ That decided, Fushimi stowed the math book in his bag and turned back to the assignment he was grading.

The following two hours went by slowly. Over the past week, the small amount of satisfaction that came with printing the failing grade on the more idiotic papers had lost some of its shine - leaving him with only the irritation of having to slog through the pathetic efforts some of Munakata's students scrawled out. Out of all of the things he'd been asked to do so far - including attending the security team meetings - grading was the worst. Even photocopying was preferable, despite being tedious.

Honestly, it was better if he was being asked to prepare assignments and quizzes. The only thing that soured it a little was the knowledge that he'd be grading the results in the end.

By the time his designated work hours were up, though, he'd managed to finish his task. "I'm heading out," he said shortly, pushing himself to his feet and reaching for his bag.

Munakata looked up from his own desk. "Give my regards to Yata-kun when you see him," he responded, and smiled again, looking faintly amused. "I hope we'll have an occasion to meet again someday."

That cryptic attitude really was irritating. Fushimi lifted the strap of his bag over his head and clicked his tongue, not even bothering to try and puzzle through the meaning behind those words. "See you on Wednesday," he said, instead of answering, and left the room, pulling the door shut behind him.

The usual sense of anticipation he got when he was walking from the office to the cafeteria was still there, but it had changed from last week. Fushimi pulled out his cell phone, briefly checking to make sure his last message from Misaki was still the same - a derogatory remark about how much he 'cheated' at the fighting game they'd played - before typing out a response. Then he waited.

Generally speaking, Misaki answered texts immediately - especially if it was something insulting or teasing, which never failed to get a rise out of him. He didn't seem to care enough to go back and fix his typos and he wasn't self-conscious when picking out what to say, so the average response took ten to thirty seconds, depending on what he was doing at the time or how much of an angry tirade he'd been goaded into. It was still just as invigorating as ever, although something about the feel of it had changed after the weekend. Fushimi wasn't particularly concerned with that. As long as Misaki filled his dull existence with that same thrill, nothing else mattered. _And since that time..._

The memory of how Misaki's wrist had felt in his hand that morning was still so vivid; it made him shiver a bit, thinking about it.

Somehow, though, the response wasn't coming back this time. Fushimi frowned down at his phone for a moment, before giving up and setting it back to sleep mode. Maybe Misaki was serving customers. There were a few who came in before the dinner rush. It might have even been a larger group this time, which would explain the delay.

 _It doesn't matter._ He stowed the phone back in his pocket, approaching the cafeteria front entrance. He'd be finding out for himself soon enough.

As the door opened, he could already hear Misaki's boisterous voice, with an unexpected level of enthusiasm, even before he stepped into the building and caught sight of his roommate at his usual till.

Misaki wasn't looking over as he came in, though. In fact, Misaki's full attention was on the other side of the counter from him, in between his till and Totsuka's. There was a red-haired man standing there, leaning casually against Totsuka's counter with one hand in his pocket while the other two chatted at him.

Something tightened in Fushimi's chest; he could feel his frown deepening. _Who is that?_

" - should be there next time!" Misaki's voice reached him, loud and excited and somehow beyond irritating. "You'd show them a thing or two, right, Mikoto-san?"

 _Mikoto._ So this was him. Fushimi eyed the man surreptitiously, approaching the counter with a certain amount of wariness. Something about Suoh Mikoto gave off the feel of a lion, lazing about in casual circumstance but with an aura of raw strength behind that lethargy. It was uncomfortable to think about; Fushimi let his eyes slide back to Misaki instead, who was leaning over the counter, braced up on his elbows and grinning like an idiot. _How annoying._

Totsuka was the only one who seemed to notice him walking over; he glanced up with the usual warm smile. "Saru-kun! How are you feeling?"

So he knew about the illness. Fushimi clicked his tongue, deliberately not looking back to Misaki now that attention had shifted to him. "Fine."

"Oh, really?" Totsuka didn't seem to notice his lack of enthusiasm - or maybe he did, but wasn't bothered by it. "Well, I'm glad - that means Yata took good care of you, right?"

"T-Totsuka-san!" When he risked a glance, Yata looked mildly disgruntled - and a bit embarrassed. "Of course I did! You're not saying you doubted me, are you?"

Some of the tension in Fushimi's chest eased off a bit at the more familiar behavior. "You're so easy to doubt, Misaki," he drawled, putting a certain emphasis on the name. "Honestly, I'm kind of surprised myself that I'm not dead."

The scowl he got back was gratifying. "Saru... you bastard..."

"Calm down, Yata," Totsuka said cheerily. "I'm sure Saru-kun was just teasing, right?" He turned to the man leaning against his counter with a cheeky grin. "Don't you think so, King?"

Mikoto's gaze shifted to him. "You don't need to keep calling me that." His voice was slow, measured and deep - the kind of tone that belonged to someone with easy confidence and authority.

The uncomfortable feeling that had started to stir within Fushimi was shifting again as he heard it.

"Eh? But you totally have that air around you!"

Misaki had already turned away again, leaning over the counter as if he wanted to move as close to Mikoto as possible. "That's right, Totsuka-san! Mikoto-san would be an amazing king!"

The irritation from before was back now, too, lashing over him in waves. Fushimi clicked his tongue, feeling the corners of his mouth edge down. Something about the look on Misaki's face right then was seriously unpleasant. And he was saying so many stupid and uninteresting things, too... "I'm getting food," he mumbled, turning away sharply.

He hadn't expected a response, but the fact that he didn't get one still seemed to turn inside him, cutting like the blade of a knife. Fushimi deliberately took only small portions of meat and rice, and then loaded a bowl with ice cream, more bothered by the second as the stream of voices behind him continued to prattle on about unimportant things. Misaki probably hadn't even glanced his way.

 _So what does it matter if he doesn't?_ He was acting like an annoying idiot, anyway - who would want that kind of attention?

The good mood he'd built up on the way over had completely crumbled; Fushimi was toying with the idea of eating quickly and leaving the cafeteria as soon as possible when he stepped up to the counter. As he moved towards them, though, he noticed that Mikoto had pushed away from Totsuka's till. "I'm going back," he announced, even as Fushimi set his tray down.

"Huh? Already?" Misaki had the gall to look disappointed, too, not even sparing a glance for the tray on his counter. "It seems like you just got here, though!"

"Sorry." Mikoto reached into his pocket, pulling out a packet of cigarettes. "I need to be somewhere soon."

"Oh, that reminds me - King!" Totsuka shifted his gaze to smile at Fushimi again. "You haven't been introduced to Saru-kun yet. He's Munakata's new TA, you know."

"Yeah?" Mikoto had already shaken loose a cigarette and braced it between his lips to pull it from the package. He turned toward Fushimi with a casual interest in his golden-eyed gaze.

Something about that look was disconcerting - it was unflatteringly similar to a mouse being stared at by an owl out on a hunt. The feeling of helplessness and impotent frustration was palpable; it was something he hadn't experienced in a while, but the familiarity rose up strong and fast at the back of his throat, like a flood of bile. Fushimi pushed it down, as ruthlessly as he could, and held his gaze. _This isn't the past._ He wasn't helpless, and no one here had any hold on him.

He still didn't see what there was for Misaki to admire so much about this man, though.

Mikoto's face softened just slightly in a smile. "Suoh Mikoto," he introduced himself. "Just 'Mikoto' is fine."

The new expression didn't make him feel any better. "Fushimi Saruhiko."

"Fushimi, huh?" Mikoto tilted his head, just slightly. "Yata's roommate?"

"Ah - right!" Misaki beamed up at his teacher - if he was a dog, he'd have been wagging his tail furiously. "He's my roommate! You remembered that, huh, Mikoto-san? I think I did mention it once..."

"Yeah." Mikoto slid the cigarette box back into his pocket and turned to leave. "Just remember what I said last week," he added, and then turned to Totsuka. "Later."

The air immediately felt less stifling once he'd gone. Fushimi breathed out slowly and then filled his lungs again before looking to Misaki again - and blinked. His roommate's face had gone almost completely red; he was staring after his teacher almost wildly, mouth working silently.

That was somehow even more annoying than before. Fushimi clicked his tongue, narrowing his eyes. "What's your problem?" he muttered.

Misaki's gaze shot back to him, and their eyes met for maybe half a second before he was glancing away, clearly flustered. "H-Hah? N-N-Nothing! Y-You don't need to know!" He scrambled to punch the numbers into his till, and Fushimi noticed that the flush had spread all the way to the tips of his ears. "Just forget it!"

A thin tendril of something icy and unpleasant seemed to curl around his ribcage; the accompanying thought snuck into his head without warning. _Don't blush like that for someone else..._

He didn't even know why it bothered him. It was stupid. Annoying. Fushimi clicked his tongue again, thoroughly irritated with himself. The whole encounter with Suoh Mikoto had left him feeling bothered and restless; there didn't seem to be any good points to even focus on. He didn't like the man at all.

"HAAAAAH? What the hell is this?" Misaki seemed to have finally noticed the tray; he was glaring at it, like the food had personally offended him.

Oddly, that reaction felt like it cleared the air a little. Fushimi raised his eyebrows condescendingly, happy to fall back into the more familiar pattern. "Dinner. What did you think it was?"

" _That_ is not dinner, goddamnit! You have more ice cream than real food, for fuck's sake!" Misaki raised his glare from the tray up to Fushimi, the side of his mouth twitching with clear agitation. "You're going to get fucking sick again, you dumbass!"

 _And if I did, you'd just take care of me again, right?_ That thought was almost appealing, if it didn't come along with the inconvenience of actually being sick. "Somehow, I've managed to avoid that without your help before."

Misaki scowled at him for a moment, then heaved a frustrated sigh. "All right. Seriously. Screw this." He pushed his way out of his station and snatched up the tray sharply, stalking towards the food selection. "I am going to pick you out some goddamn _nutrition_ , and you are going to eat it, you fucking idiot!"

For a moment, Fushimi was so taken aback that he could only gape. _What... is he...?_

Behind him, Totsuka chuckled; Fushimi shot him an irritated glance, and he smiled back, resting his check on one hand. "Yata's a little crude sometimes," he pointed out, eyes somehow knowing, "but I think this kind of thing is his way of saying he cares."

Somehow, that thought - Misaki caring; specifically, about him - brought a mildly uncomfortable warmth to his face. Fushimi scowled back. _That really is an annoying habit he has._

"Well, I'm sure you have your own way of doing things," Totsuka continued, not seeming bothered in the slightest by the negative reaction. "But, you know, I think Yata would be happy if he got some kind of sign from you too, Saru-kun."

Fushimi clicked his tongue, shifting his gaze towards where Miskai was energetically loading his plate. This wasn't a subject he wanted to examine closely; it was bothersome to think about. "Can you not call me that?" he muttered, instead.

"Ah, you finally asked, huh?" When he turned back again, Totsuka looked pleased with himself. "See, that's what I mean - you need to express your feelings more directly, Fushimi-kun." He gave a one-shouldered shrug. "It doesn't have to be in words, necessarily - but I think it's important to be clear. Right?"

 _What a pain..._ Fushimi deepened his frown, trying to think of a way to respond that would turn the subject to something less unpleasant, but Misaki's sudden return spared him the trouble.

"Done!" His roommate slapped the tray down on the counter, and stepped back with a triumphant smile, obviously pleased with himself.

A quick glance over the tray had Fushimi furrowing his brows. "... You didn't put vegetables on there."

"You wouldn't eat them if I did, would you?" Misaki pushed his way back into the station, folding his arms and frowning back. "Listen up, though - you'd better clear this plate, after I went to that much trouble. D'you know how hard it is to build a balanced meal without proper greens?" He pulled a face. "To be honest, this still isn't great... but it's still at least a hundred times better than what you had! And I picked through it for you to fit your ridiculous fussiness, so be grateful!"

The strange, aggressive thoughtfulness was kind of unnerving. Not really in a bad way, though. Fushimi shifted his gaze from Misaki's attempt at a stern expression to the plate of food. It didn't look unappetizing. There were a few things he was going to pick off regardless of what anyone said, and his ice cream was starting to melt, but...

Maybe it wasn't that much of a bother.

"I don't need to be grateful for something I didn't ask for," he responded, without much bite.

There was an uncharacteristic pause; when he looked up again, Misaki's frown had deepened and his eyes narrowed. "You were grateful enough for that stupid book," he muttered, gaze darting to Fushimi's bag and back up again.

The resentment in his tone was clear. _What? Just because he had to deliver it?_ Somehow, it was a bit gratifying - after suffering through that scene with Suoh Mikoto, he liked the idea of Misaki being put out in some similar way. "Not really. I didn't ask for that, either."

Misaki's eyes met his, wary and bright with some emotion Fushimi couldn't place, and it touched off a little spark at the pit of his stomach. He was conscious of the beating of his heart, how the rate and intensity of it surged, and the shiver that ran along his skin as his body was flooded with unfamiliar feelings.

It was as intoxicating as it was overwhelming - a veritable storm with him standing at the center.

"R-Right, so." Misaki broke the gaze, looking a bit awkward about it, and cleared his throat, focussing on the till again. "I'll just - I'll ring this up before it gets cold."

Fushimi reached into his pocket for his wallet, almost mechanically. The remnants of that sudden, unexpected rush still lingered, trembling at the tips of his fingers and prickling along his skin. It wasn't unpleasant, though... more like...

Watching Misaki fumble with the debit machine and curse as the cord tangled, he had to admit, _I really don't dislike it._

* * *

Tuesday morning felt even more like an ordinary day than Monday had.

Still, Yata didn't hesitate this time when he was measuring the rice - didn't even think twice when he started cooking up the portion size that would feed two people. There was a level of confidence in his heart that he wasn't sure where he'd gotten - but he wasn't going to complain about it.

 _That Munakata guy never cooks him breakfast, does he?_

Somehow or another, that thought made Yata feel pretty satisfied with himself.

* * *

The smell of breakfast in the room was just as strong on Tuesday morning as it had been on Monday.

Fushimi took his time getting out of bed, allowing himself the luxury of lying there for the first moment or two as his brain adjusted. When he climbed down the ladder and padded over to the desk to unwrap the still-warm plate of food, the corners of his mouth had already edged up into a small, satisfied smile.

 _He doesn't cook breakfast every morning for Suoh Mikoto._

In the locked corner of his heart, where he banished the more uncomfortable thoughts, Fushimi felt strangely vindicated.


	8. The Game

**Building Bridges**

 **The Game**

On the second Friday of the semester, Fushimi's course in graphics programming assigned a term project.

 _Well, it was predictable._ He frowned at the information sheet he'd brought up again on his laptop, leaning back against the chair in the dorm and feeling vaguely irritated that it seemed to have caught him off-guard. The outline they'd been given at the start of the course had a grade percentage breakdown with the lowest allowable portion given to exams and left the rest for practical work. Of _course_ there was going to be a major project.

Honestly, it was better that way. Exams were useless.

Still, he was going to need to come up with something to actually _build_ , because the guidelines were not terribly specific. A graphical application on the platform of his choice using one of several specified engines, with the first stage - due in the next week - being a proposal that would outline the scope of the work. And he'd have to present the finished product to the class in the end, which was tiresome.

Fushimi's personal projects were ideas that came to him and seemed interesting; actually forcing himself to sit down and think of one was not that appealing. And for it to be subject to his professor's approval...

 _What a pain..._

He was still turning the whole annoying prospect over in his head when Misaki came back to the dorm. "Hey," he grumbled, sounding a bit resentful. "You could try responding to texts, you know - I thought you got sick again or something."

"You just saw me an hour ago," Fushimi reminded him, without pause. "Besides, I'm trying to work on a term project - I can't be expected to entertain you every time you're on shift."

"Nobody asked you to!" Misaki shot back, irritably. "Anyway, it doesn't look like you're working all that hard. You're just sitting there staring at the screen."

Fushimi clicked his tongue. "I'm trying to think of an idea," he muttered back. "Why don't you shut up for once?"

"Shut up yourself!" Despite the heat in his tone, though, obviously Misaki's curiosity overrode his irritation; he came up beside the desk, frowning. "An idea for what?"

 _As if you could understand it properly._ Misaki and technology didn't seem to mix well. He could _use_ his various devices, but he had next to no interest in how they worked. Fushimi clicked his tongue again. "An application," he responded shortly. "It's not your concern, so - "

"What, you mean like a phone app?" Misaki's brow furrowed up. "I've got a few of those games on mine - you know, the ones where you level up and fight bosses? Or something like that." He pulled a face. "It's kind of boring, though... Oh! Hey!" Abruptly, his eyes lit up. "You should make one where you can challenge other players instead! That'd be way more fun!"

Fushimi eyed him dubiously. It wasn't like a cell phone game was outside the realm of possibility for the assignment, but... "I don't remember asking for your input."

"Hah? What's your problem with it? It's a great idea!" Misaki scowled at him.

"Define 'great'," Fushimi drawled back automatically. Inwardly, the notion was kind of appealing. _Simple repeatable grinding for levels, with a basic competitive mode where you can select opponents._ It was workable. The graphics didn't have to be complex - basic designs would work. The course was in programming, after all, not art. "While you're at it, define 'idea'. Competitive games aren't a new thing."

"I know that!" Misaki grumbled, looking more than a little put-out. "It's still a good idea. Anyway, you could do something different, like... um... like..." His eyes darted around the room, then abruptly brightened. "Like skateboarding!"

"What?" Fushimi frowned back. "That's a stupid idea."

Misaki scowl deepened. "The fuck? Don't just reject it without even thinking about it!" He braced his hands on his hips, glaring back stubbornly. "It's an awesome idea! The whole gameplay could be doing tricks on the skateboard - the harder the trick, the more points you get!" He suddenly grinned, looking proud of himself, and raised a hand to confidently prod his own chest with his thumb. "I could demonstrate everything for you! It'd be fun!"

 _Working on a game... with Misaki..._ It was certainly an appealing prospect - more interesting than schoolwork usually was. If he could film for reference - maybe use a motion capture software to get the fluidity of the moves... Also, Misaki could help to test it out for him at various stages. It was going to require two people to play.

 _Two people._

"You're an idiot," he mumbled, staring forward at the laptop screen without really seeing it.

"Heh. But you're thinking about it now, right?" Misaki leaned against the desk, sounding pleased. "Well, leave it to me to come up with the gameplay ideas! You can make anything work as long as I think of it, right?"

Fushimi shifted his gaze, looking up into Misaki's bright, enthusiastic eyes. The idea of the game had already started to form in his head - and with that last statement, he could feel the stirring of excitement within him as well. "Don't be stupid," he responded airily, but allowed the corners of his mouth to edge up just the same.

 _If you think of it... I can figure out how to make it work._

* * *

Yata was pretty sure his cell phone was mocking him.

Well... okay, so maybe it wasn't the cell phone. _Why hasn't he said anything yet? Asshole._

The last text message in the conversation was still the same, despite how many times he'd re-opened it over the past hour.

 **You:** so wat did ur teachr say abt the game? 1

No response.

 _Fucking bastard..._ Yata glared at the phone, wishing he could somehow push his frustration through the connection and hit Saruhiko with it. _There's no way he doesn't know by now._ He shut off the screen and let out an agitated huff, slouching back against the bar counter.

"Problems, Yata-chan?"

He didn't bother to turn to look at Kusanagi before answering. "Nah, it's nothing."

"Boyfriend not answering your texts?" Bandou asked him, with what looked like completely sincere sympathy. "Hate it when that happens - I mean, with girlfriends, for me," he hastily clarified.

"Wh-What... did you... ?" Yata's fingers clenched on the phone in his hands; he leaned forward on his stool and glowered across the room to where his friend was sitting on the couch, trying to will down the heat rising on his face. "He's not my fucking boyfriend!"

"You know, it's better not to respond right away," Chitose remarked casually, from where he sitting on the stool next to Yata and picking away at a shared platter of food between himself and Dewa. "Makes you seem desperate. You should leave him hanging for a bit next time he sends you something."

"Shut up! I'm not desperate!" He just wanted to know whether or not they were going to be able to make the game they'd come up with _together_ \- that was totally normal, right? "And he's not my boyfriend, goddamnit! We're just - " For a second he had to pause there; he hadn't actually referred to Saruhiko as a _friend_ yet, and it felt a little bit awkward to do it now. It was definitely different from his other friendships, that was for sure. " - friends."

Seriously, they'd spent most of the weekend chatting, either in person or through text, and they were going to build an actual goddamn game together - at least, they were if Saruhiko's teacher approved the idea - so they had to be friends now.

"Right, right." Dewa raised an eyebrow at him. "'Friends'."

" _Normal_ friends, you asshole!"

"Yata-chan." Kusanagi's voice picked up a warning note. "If you're going to get riled up, do it outside."

"I'm not riled up." He slumped back against the bar again, scowling to himself as he raised his phone to quickly check the screen. Nothing. _Fucking goddamnit - what's the hold up?_

As much as he hated to admit it... he was kind of anxious. What if that teacher didn't like the idea?

 _No fucking way. It's an awesome idea!_ But still...

The phone buzzed in his hand just as he was lowering it again; Yata straightened in his seat and brought it back up, quickly checking the latest text message.

 **Fushimi Saruhiko:** You have until Saturday to decide which moves I'm recording.

"All right!" He threw a fist in the air enthusiastically, grinning down at the message, and then moved to type back.

 **You:** no prblm i can go for hrs just tr yme 2

"The hell was that about?" Bandou sounded a little baffled.

"Let's see..." Chitose abruptly leaned in to look over Yata's shoulder.

The movement caught him by surprise; it took him about two or three seconds to jerk aside and hide his phone's screen. "The _fuck_ are you doing?"

His older friend was eyeing him back speculatively. "Huh. Well, then..."

 _What's with that reaction?_ Yata scowled back, feeling a bit defensive about it. "What?"

"What'd you see?" Bandou urged.

"'I can go for hours'." Chitose spread his hands, a knowing little smirk on his face as he dropped that piece of info. "And something about recording."

Beside him, Dewa covered his mouth to muffle a snicker.

"Th-That's not..." Fuck. In his hand, his cellphone buzzed, but Yata resisted the urge to check it, trying to focus on somehow cooling the hot flush climbing up his face again. A glance across the room revealed Bandou staring at him with an open mouth; behind the bar, even Kusanagi was eyeing them with some interest from where he was wiping off a glass. "D-Don't get the wrong idea! It's skateboarding, okay? He's filming some of my moves for - "

"'Moves'," Chitose repeated, with a certain sly emphasis, and Dewa dropped his head, shoulders shaking.

"Stop twisting my words, goddamnit!"

"Yata-chan," Kusanagi said, warningly.

"He fucking started it!" Yata made a sharp 'ch', slouching back against the bar counter with a scowl. "I'm helping Saru make a game for his term project, and it's gonna be about skateboarding, so he's recording me. That's _it_ , you assholes."

"Just giving you a hard time." Chitose waved a hand in half-assed apology. "My bad."

"You make it pretty easy, though," Dewa murmured, without looking at him.

Yata narrowed his eyes, ready to reply to that one, when his phone buzzed at him a second time. "Whatever," he muttered instead, bringing it up and unlocking the screen to read the new messages.

 **Fushimi Saruhiko:** I'll be holding you to that, so don't complain.

 **Fushimi Saruhiko:** By the way, being the model won't give you any advantage when it comes to gameplay.

That raised his spirits again; Yata could feel the grin building even as he moved to type back.

 **You:** ya but ill still kick ur ass so b rdy for it 3

Somehow, even with all the bullshit teasing from his friends, today just felt _good_.

* * *

"I thought you'd have an actual camera set up or something." Misaki dropped his skateboard carelessly onto the ground, propping one foot up onto it with an easy confidence and turning to offer a raised eyebrow. "Is that gonna be good enough?"

"Shouldn't you focus on showing off all those fancy moves you've been bragging about?" Fushimi drawled back, raising his gaze from the image on his phone's camera mode. "Let me worry about capturing it."

"Heh." Misaki smirked at him, rolling the skateboard under his foot almost idly. He was wearing tighter-fitting clothing than usual, at Fushimi's request - it would make the arm and leg motions easier to capture once he was playing around with the footage. "In that case, I'm ready to go any time."

"I'll need to get the angle right first." Fushimi stepped back off of the pavement, backing up a ways. The worn-out ramp at this particular public skate park wasn't exactly high class, but apparently not many people came to this place - and it had stairs and railings and walls, which evidently were going to be used as props.

Honestly, he'd never cared enough to look into what kind of tricks you could do on a skateboard before, so this was all new.

"Okay." He held up the phone once he'd gotten a reasonable distance back, watching Misaki's image as he adjusted it just so, and hit record. "Do it."

"Huh? 'Do it'..." Misaki blinked, looking a little taken aback. "Like, anything I want?"

Fushimi let the corners of his mouth edge up. _I shouldn't have to tell you, right?_ "Impress me."

"Oh... _Oh!_ " That seemed to appeal to him; that cocky smirk was back, full force. "Watch carefully then, Saru!"

He kicked off and picked up speed; Fushimi moved his phone to follow. The footage would be shaky, but that couldn't be helped - he wasn't going to spend money on a camera and tripod he'd never use again outside of this project. He could smooth it out after he'd built the character model.

 _As long as he's as good as he seems to think he is._

Even as he thought it, Misaki dropped into a crouch and then pushed down his back foot and kicked his skateboard up, lifting his legs as it spun underneath him, and landing with what looked like effortless agility. He rolled forward a short ways before raising his head with a smile so bright it could've outshone the sun. "Saruhiko! You caught that, right?"

Something about that smile made his chest tighten. Fushimi pinched his fingers on the camera and zoomed in without pausing the recording, catching a close-up of Misaki's face. Under his black beanie, tufts of chestnut-colored hair stuck out awkward angles - it was such an ordinary thing, but somehow Fushimi's gaze was drawn down along to where they skirted the bottom curve of his ear and curled against the side of his neck. "Of course I did," he answered, blandly. "You weren't going that fast."

"That a challenge or something?" Misaki braced his hands on his hips, grinning back. His eyes were expectant; in the zoomed-in picture, they seemed to be an unusually dark shade of amber, and still somehow brimming over with energy. "Anyway, how was that? Pretty cool, huh?"

Fushimi swallowed against the tightness that seemed to be spreading up from his chest towards his throat. "Nice to have proof you can do one trick properly."

"Heh heh. I'll take that as a compliment." He stepped back with one foot, bracing himself on the pavement again, and looked up with a smirk, eyes bright and eager. "Ready for the next one?"

Fushimi hit the stop button with his finger, unobtrusively. "Not yet. You'll need to repeat that one a few more times."

"Huh?" Misaki looked startled. "Why?"

"Different angles." He was already walking to the next spot, following the image of Misaki on his phone to make sure he would capture it correctly. "I haven't decided about the camera angle in the game yet. We'll see how the footage turns out."

Misaki sighed, shoulders slumping a little. "Seriously? How many times am I going to have to repeat each one?"

Fushimi raised his eyebrows instead of answering. "You were the one who said you could go for hours, remember?"

"Of course I can go for hours! Don't underestimate me!" Misaki's expression set stubbornly. "Repeating the same one over and over is kind of a pain... but whatever, I'm up for it!"

"If you say so." He raised the phone again, positioning it. "Try to keep the repeats as close as possible to the first one."

He got a sour look for that. "Yeah, right."

"Oh, one more thing..." Fushimi didn't bother to stop the lazy smile creeping onto his lips; something about quipping back and forth with Misaki always raised his mood. "I'm going to need footage for the misses and the wipe-outs, so..."

"So, what? Wait..." Misaki stared at him, eyebrows coming together in an expression of disbelief. "You want me to fall on purpose?"

Fushimi shrugged, not altering his expression. "It doesn't have to be on purpose, necessarily..."

Misaki's face twisted into a scowl. "I don't have accidents, okay? And falling on purpose is gonna look fake as hell."

"I could throw something at you," Fushimi offered, purposefully drawling the words out.

"Don't be a dick."

"Mm-hm." Honestly, he made it too easy. "Let's just get on with this, so we don't run out of daylight."

"Yeah, yeah," Misaki grumbled, but he obligingly rolled back into place, looking back up with determined eyes. "Say when."

Fushimi hit the record button again. "Whenever."

* * *

He didn't get a chance to go over the footage until the following Monday, as it turned out. Once they lost the light on Saturday, Misaki had insisted on going for dinner at his favorite hangout from high school - which wasn't entirely unpleasant. They'd stayed late, chatting over their empty bowls as other people ate and left, and went straight to bed on returning to the dorm. Sunday - after the security team meeting - had been primarily spent capturing the remaining footage, and then finishing off the rest of the weekend's homework while Misaki swore at his game console behind him.

It wasn't bad, really, that kind of casual atmosphere.

Peace and quiet was a welcome change, though, at the moment. Misaki would still be at work for the next couple of hours, so it worked out perfectly.

 _I'll look the videos over first before doing any motion capture._ This was going to be the first time he used that software, so having a solid idea of what he needed from each one would probably be useful. Fushimi opened the first file in his list, leaning back in his chair to watch.

Immediately, his own voice came through clearly, _"Do it."_

 _"Huh? 'Do it'..."_ Misaki's on-screen image was staring at a point above the camera, looking startled.

 _The first one, huh?_ They'd started to fall into a pattern after that, so there wouldn't be as much talking and filler. Fushimi noted the time on the video when Misaki actually kicked off to do the trick, absently. _I wonder if I should clip this..._

The smaller image of his roommate rolled to a stop and looked up at the camera, smiling brightly, and suddenly the thought was less appealing.

 _"Saruhiko!"_ Misaki's voice called out, thin and from a distance, and Fushimi felt a fluttering in his stomach. The screen zoomed in, and then that smile and those eyes were front and center on his screen, almost life-sized.

He wasn't entirely sure why he'd continued to record - or why he'd zoomed in - but even now, outside of the moment, watching the scene made it difficult to breathe. It was ridiculous, but somehow he couldn't shake he impression that all the warmth and color of the sun was caught and spun around Misaki even as he grinned like an idiot.

The video ended abruptly.

 _Stupid..._ But still...

Fushimi clicked his tongue, frowned at the screen for a short while, and then leaned forward in his seat and moved to copy the file to a separate folder on his phone.

* * *

"Hah - it actually does the trick!" Yata maneuvered his fingers over the buttons on his phone's screen furiously, watching the blank moving figure respond to the motion. "That's so cool!"

"That's the whole point," Saruhiko reminded him. His voice was bland, but he'd been eyeing Yata from under his lashes since he'd transferred the partly-finished game to the phone and instructed him to try it out. "How are the controls?"

"Pretty good!" He missed his cue for a trick and swore, narrowing his eyes at the screen as the figure wavered embarrassingly. "It's kind of hard, though - like, you have to get the timing exactly right, and it's really fussy." The stage - or whatever - finished, and he was returned to the startup screen. That was mostly blank, too - just the one button that would launch the single piece of gameplay that had been completed. Yata took the opportunity to shoot a wry smile up at his roommate. "Kind of like someone I know."

Saruhiko raised an eyebrow at him. "Aren't you just blaming me for your lack of skill?"

"You were the one who asked about the controls!" Yata let out an irritated huff of breath, frowning back down at the screen again. He pressed the button to start up the stage again. "Too bad you can't make it look cooler. The rest of it seems awesome, but the visuals are really boring."

He got that typical, irritated-sounding tongue click back. "I'm not an artist," Saruhiko muttered.

"Well, like I said, it's still pretty cool." Yata successfully executed a trick on time. "Yes! Nailed it! Anyway, the leveling stage is great so far - I could play the hell out of this, no matter what it looks like. Fuck!" The next move didn't quite match up. "I can't believe you got this much done in just a couple of weeks - this is amazing!"

"It's not even halfway done, and I haven't done my quality checks yet." The response came back in a dry, bland sort of tone, but somehow Yata got the impression that Saruhiko was pleased with his response. "If you notice anything wrong, let me know."

"Right, I'll do tha - eh?" Just as he executed the second successful trick, a message popped up on the screen. "What's this?"

There was some shuffling as Saruhiko got up from his desk chair. "Let me see." He sat down on the bed right next to Yata, reaching over to tilt the cell phone towards him even as he leaned in for a better look.

The sudden, unexpected closeness had Yata's skin prickling up. He could feel the warmth from Saruhiko's shoulder next to his, and even though it was totally normal and casual and everything, for some reason his stomach was fluttering up like crazy. Saruhiko's fingers brushed against his on the phone, long and slender and slightly cool to the touch, and it... really didn't help.

 _The fuck is wrong with me?_ He swallowed hard, and tried to ignore it.

Beside him, Saruhiko clicked his tongue, oblivious to Yata's inner struggle. "That's not supposed to be there," he muttered.

"H-Huh." His palm felt clammy against the phone's surface.

"What were you doing when this came up?"

"Huh? Oh. Uh..." What the hell had he been doing? Yata's already flustered brain scrambled back for the memory. "I dunno, just - just playing like normal. I think I did a trick or something."

"You _think_?" Saruhiko repeated, all cool an unimpressed.

That tone touched a nerve; Yata jerked his head around to scowl. "Look, just because you - "

The rest of that sentence died a painful, awkward death. Saruhiko's face was so close to his that their noses had nearly brushed when he'd turned; it was almost possible to feel, rather than just hear, the sharp intake of breath he made. His eyes widened a bit behind his glasses, and Yata was vaguely aware that they were a darker shade of blue than normal under the shadow cast by the bunk above them. He was more focused on the fact that it was suddenly very hard to breathe, and his heartbeat seemed like a dull roar, drowning out every attempt to think properly.

Saruhiko's fingers twitched over his, but he didn't move. Didn't say anything, either. For what felt like a really long moment, they just sat there, breathing shallowly and staring at each other from inches away.

 _It's kind of like that time..._ The thought snuck into his head before he could stop it; Yata felt an uncomfortable heat rising on his face as unwanted memories bubbled up to the surface of his mind. Saruhiko's flushed face, heated gaze, lips swollen from kissing...

The way it had felt to kiss him...

At the pit of his stomach, a little spark of excitement stirred. Yata's eyelids felt heavy; in front of him, he could see Saruhiko returning a sort of wary, hooded gaze. _I kind of... maybe... want to..._

His cell phone abruptly buzzed in his hand, and the familiar ringtone he'd assigned to Kamamoto started to go off.

 _Fuck!_ Yata jolted back, even as Saruhiko's hand jerked away from his phone as if it had burned him. "S-Sorry!" His voice came out sounding strained and awkward, but that couldn't be helped. _That was weird..._ He glanced up and met his roommate's gaze briefly, catching the echo of his own confusion in the expression before he hastily turned his head, too embarrassed to keep up eye contact. "I just - I'm gonna answer it. Okay?"

He was already pressing the button when Saruhiko's weight lifted from the bed beside him; the disgruntled mumble of "Go ahead" was background noise as he brought his phone up to his ear.

 _Just what the hell was that right now, anyway?_

* * *

On the screen in Fushimi's hand, the character model executed the trick successfully, causing the cumulated points to flash across the screen. _That's working, then. Good._ He just had to have Misaki try the stage out later to make sure it was completely idiot-proof.

 _Only the combat part left._

Well, that and one other thing... Fushimi watched the character model float in front of the generic black background, blank and colorless, like a ghost. Misaki was right - it was boring to look at. He could feel the frown forming on his face even as he continued to stare at it.

Really, this was just a school project, and he shouldn't have cared as long as it was functional. But...

 _"Too bad you can't make it look cooler."_

"Can't help that, can I?" Fushimi muttered under his breath, feeling mildly irritated. He lowered the phone, eyeing the remains of his tray of food. The cafeteria was starting to get crowded; he could hear the dull clatter of voices and movement around him. _I should eat quickly and get out of here._

Unfortunately, even as he set the phone down and reached for his chopsticks, someone came up on his right. "Fushimi?"

He recognized the voice as Hidaka's even before he looked up at the sheepishly smiling face that went with it. "What?"

"Sorry to interrupt you when you're busy and all, but... well..." He shrugged apologetically, tossing a glance around at the crowded room. "It's kind of full everywhere else. Mind if we sit with you?"

 _'We'..._ Moving his gaze past Hidaka, he spotted Akiyama, Enomoto, and Domyouji. _What a pain..._ Fushimi clicked his tongue. "It's not like you have a choice. Do what you want."

"Right. Well. Thanks, anyway." Hidaka offered an awkward little smile, sliding into the seat beside him.

"Sorry for imposing," Akiyama added politely, taking the seat on his other side.

Domyouji flopped in on the other side of the table, letting out an audible whoosh of a breath. "Man, I'm starving!"

"That's why you have food," Enomoto reminded him, cheerfully.

"Uh, yeah, thanks for that. I got it."

 _Noisy._ Fushimi suppressed a sigh, picking up his phone again to check on how the application handled idling. The screen continued to show the various options without any error. _At least this is good so far._

"What are you working on?" Hidaka said suddenly - a sharp glance to the side showed him looking from the phone to Fushimi expectantly. "Some kind of mobile app?"

 _What do you care?_ For whatever reason, he didn't feel like responding with that, though. "A game," he answered instead, shortly. "It's just a term project."

"Really? A game?" That seemed to catch Hidaka's attention, if the way his eyes brightened up was any indication. "That's pretty cool! Can I see it?"

It was a simple enough inquiry - harmless, really - but something inside Fushimi stirred restlessly in response. He'd originally thought he had Hidaka figured out - the way he talked about 'the team' and 'getting along' was exactly like those 'helpful' sorts back in middle and high school; the ones who thought of themselves as mediators and tried to 'fix' anyone who didn't fit neatly into their mental image of society. It was a self-righteous sort of crusade, and annoying as hell to deal with. In the time they'd known each other, too, it was the same as he remembered from before: five weeks of earnest, awkward greetings and invitations to this or that stupid social thing that didn't have any purpose other than irritating small talk.

Except... That was what he did with Misaki, most of the time: talking about small things that didn't matter. But somehow, it was fun.

And the way Hidaka looked at him now, there seemed to be a sincere curiosity and interest.

Not like Misaki's interest - bright and burning, lighting up his world. But...

A small, pleasant twinge started at the pit of Fushimi's stomach; he instinctively pushed it down, eyeing Hidaka with a certain amount of wariness. "It's not finished," he responded flatly, pulling his phone back towards him. "Anyway, it doesn't have graphics or finished character models. There's no point in showing it to anyone."

Hidaka looked disappointed. "Huh, really? I'll bet it's still pretty good, though - you're smart, right, Fushimi?" He offered a small, almost hopeful-looking smile. "I'd really like to see what kind of game you made."

The simple honesty in that statement was kind of disconcerting. Fushimi let his frown deepen, feeling the strange restless feeling stir up again. _It's not like he's interested in you,_ something at the back of his head whispered. It was a familiar voice, but one that had been silenced more and more with Misaki around.

Even now, it didn't seem to have the power it once had.

"Ah," Akiyama's voice interjected diffidently, before he could think up response. When Fushimi turned to look at him, his gaze was serious. "I've done some 3D character design and graphics before, for a friend's game. If you're interested?"

The offer was so unexpected that Fushimi could only stare blankly at him for a moment, skin prickling. He was aware that the conversation at the table seemed to have stilled, all eyes focussed on him, and somehow the discomfort that came with that kind of thing didn't seem to be sinking in as it normally did.

 _Character design and graphics..._ That was the one thing that Misaki had been disappointed about, wasn't it? The thing that would make the game perfect, in the end.

Still... "Why?" he asked sharply.

Akiyama blinked at him, clearly not expecting the question. "I'm sorry?"

"Why would you do that?" Fushimi drew his voice out, trying to keep the furious rush within him from showing on his face or in his tone. "It's not like we're friends." _There is no way anyone would help for no reason at all._

"Oh. Well..." Akiyama shrugged, just slightly, and smiled. "To be honest, I'd like to see the finished project myself. I'm a little curious."

 _That can't be all._ But, if anything, his experience with Akiyama had showed him to be completely fair and honest. He didn't dodge around questions or offer half-baked explanations; everything he said gave the impression of being carefully thought out, even if it was just 'I don't know'.

And, to have proper character models and graphics... to see Misaki's reaction when he showed him...

Fushimi clamped down firmly on the anticipation that was starting to uncurl within him. "I can't pay you or anything."

"That's all right." Akiyama waved that aside, still with that unassuming little smile. "A copy of the finished game would be enough."

He narrowed his eyes at that. "I didn't ask you for it, so don't expect me to do you any favors in return."

"Um... yeah. That's okay." The smile turned a bit awkward. "I won't."

The rigid sense of self-imposed restriction eased a little inside of him. Fushimi turned his gaze down to his phone again, feeling strangely self-conscious after his unreasonable terms had been casually accepted. "I'll need a place to send you the models," he mumbled, unlocking the screen.

There was a marked moment of silence at the table.

"Right. Of course," Akiyama said hastily, just as Fushimi was on the verge of lifting his head and demanding to know what they were all staring at. "I'll write down my email address for you - just give me a moment."

"That's great, right, Fushimi?" Hidaka blurted, and the overly enthusiastic tone of voice had Fushimi lifting his gaze again. "And, hey, you know, I could beta test it for you!" His stare was an earnest as ever. "It'd be like exclusive access or something."

Fushimi stared back at him, perplexed. "What - ?"

"Me too! I can beta test!" Domyouji leaned forward in his seat, eagerly. "I want exclusive access, too!"

"You're only saying that because you don't want Hidaka to get ahead of you," Enomoto accused lightly, but looked up with a shrug and a half-smile. "Sign me up to beta test as well."

"Same here," Akiyama added, and held out the paper with his contact information printed neatly on it. "I'll have some free time to start work on the designs this weekend, if you can send me the models and some kind of description of what you're looking for before then. I should be able to send you a prototype by Monday, at least, and you can tell me what you think."

Looking around the table at the stares all directed his way, Fushimi found it hard to keep from lowering his gaze. Something squeezed almost painfully in his chest, but it wasn't entirely unpleasant. He took the paper from Akiyama's hand, staring at it almost fixedly. "... Thanks."

"Don't worry about it, Fushimi."

The conversation started to flow away from him naturally after that, but even as he sat there and ate the remains of his dinner in silence, it didn't feel uncomfortable or annoying.

* * *

"Less than three weeks left in the semester..." Akagi stretched his neck with one hand, smiling a bit ruefully. "It seems like it's been no time at all since we started."

"Speak for yourself." Bandou sighed. "Spring's just been one long drag... bring on the summer break, already!"

"What kind of spirit is that?" Yata demanded, twisting his head from where he was walking front of them, away from the trades building. "Mikoto-san's welding instruction is amazing!"

Bandou frowned back at him, unimpressed. "It's not about whether or not it's amazing - this is school we're talking about, remember?"

Yata scowled back, turning his head forward again with a derisive 'ch'. "I don't see how you can call yourself his apprentice, talking like that."

Kamamoto glanced over at him a bit dubiously. "Yata-san, that's a little harsh."

"It's the truth!"

"You're taking it too seriously," Fujishima observed, quietly.

"You're not taking it seriously enough!" Yata thumped a fist on his chest, straightening out. "We have to maintain Mikoto-san's reputation, and that means no complaining about the instruction!"

Eric shot him a glance from the other side of Fujishima. "Noisy dog," he commented, almost under his breath.

"Hah? What was that?" Yata glared back. "Say it to my face!"

"Anyway!" Akagi quickly jumped back into the conversation, before Eric could respond. "There's a deal at the theater this weekend - anyone want to take in a movie Saturday afternoon?"

"I'm in," Bandou agreed, with a shrug.

Fujishima nodded. "Sounds good."

"I'm free that day, too," Kamamoto put in.

 _Saturday..._ Yata frowned. "Sorry, I can't."

"Big plans with your boyfriend or something?" Chitose snuck up on Kamamoto's other side, eyeing him knowingly. "Well, I understand." He spread his arms, looking smug. "I'm not free on Saturday either, as a matter of fact."

The top of Yata's mouth twitched up; his hands balled into fists. "He's not" - the incident from their first test of the game tried to float back up to the surface of his thoughts; he ruthlessly pushed it back down - "my boyfriend!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Chitose brushed that protest aside, and raised an eyebrow. "He's the reason you can't make it, though, right?"

Yata scowled at him. It was the truth, but he didn't really want to admit it now. "I said I'd help test the game; it's not like you can play the combat portion with just one - "

"Sounds like a yes," Dewa murmured, cutting him off.

"Well, it's not like it's a big deal," Akagi added, with a cheerful grin and a shrug. "And you're coming to the bar afterwards, right?"

 _Fuck..._ A little strangled noise escaped his mouth as he searched for a good way to answer that.

"Sounds like a no," Eric commented, just loud enough to be heard.

"Sh-Sh-Shut up! I promised I'd make dinner that night! I fucking promised, okay?" Yata could feel that irritating rush of heat flooding over his neck and up to his cheeks, and clenched both of his hands into fists. "Anyway, that guy doesn't eat properly if I don't watch out for him! If I left him alone, he'd probably have something stupid like an energy bar - or just forget to eat." The thought pulled another scowl onto his face. "That stupid bastard... He still won't even try a goddamn vegetable, either... D'you know how hard it is to build a good diet with no fucking vegetables?"

A marked silence answered him. Yata glanced around at his friends, confused and a little irritated to find them all staring back at him. " _What?_ "

Akagi shrugged awkwardly. Bandou scratched his cheek. Fujishima looked away. Eric tucked his hands into his pockets.

"Yata-san..." When he jerked his gaze back in that direction, Kamamoto's expression was almost pitying. "Why not just let it drop for now?"

Beyond him, Chitose was shaking his head, sadly. Dewa rolled his eyes.

 _Bunch of assholes, all of them..._ "Ch! Whatever!" Yata marched ahead without waiting to see if they'd catch up. "Let's go to the bar!"

"Yeah, yeah..."

As the subject changed back to safer topics, it was easy enough to let the strange behavior slip out of his mind. It wasn't like that kind of bullshit was important, anyway.

* * *

"So, this is gonna be the final version, right?"

Fushimi disconnected Misaki's phone from his computer, turning his chair to meet his roommate's expectant gaze from where he was perched on the lower bunk. "Unless you have something to complain about, it is," he responded, ignoring the anticipation that felt ready to rise up from the center of his chest in physical form as he held out the device. "I'll still be fixing all the bugs you find, too."

Misaki grinned back at him, reaching out eagerly to take his phone back. "What's there to complain about? I've seen all the basic stuff, and it's awesome!" He turned his gaze back on the screen, swiping a finger to unlock it and starting up the application immediately after. "Battle mode's just gonna be what we talked about, right? I can't wait to - " The rest of whatever he was going to say was lost in a sudden swift intake of breath; he stared at the screen, eyes widening.

Fushimi had surreptitiously stood while he was talking, and hovered a short ways from Misaki's left side, where he could see both the screen and his roommate's reaction. The finished graphics Akiyama had sent him the night before - which he'd stayed up until almost sunrise integrating into the code - were plainly visible on the title screen. The buttons, background, character models (well, one model, but the colors would vary in battle mode) - everything was revised.

He'd seen it on his own phone already, finishing up the final debugging as the room started to grow light, but Misaki's phone was a different model, so it was good to see that the computer had emulated it successfully and everything was where it should be. More importantly, though...

Misaki raised his eyes from the phone, staring up at Fushimi with a mixture of shock and awe. "You... I thought..."

"It wasn't cool enough without proper graphics, right?" He had to struggle a bit to keep his voice low and unconcerned. "I got someone to do them for me, so hopefully that satisfies your sense of aesthetics."

The smile spreading across Misaki's face just about stopped his breath. "I don't know what the fuck you just said, but this is - this is - " He had to swallow hard before finishing that sentence, and his eyes were suspiciously shiny. "This is _awesome_ , Saruhiko!"

Something about that look had his throat feeling tight and a bit painful. Fushimi took in a breath, searching for equilibrium. Misaki's expression was so brilliant right then that he couldn't decide if he wanted to freeze the moment and keep looking at it forever, or look away to try and still the uncomfortable fluttering at the pit of his stomach. "Don't cry," he managed to respond, a bit lamely.

"I'm not fucking crying!" Misaki sniffed loudly, blinking a few times in rapid succession before turning his eyes back to the game, with a kind of wonder. "Did the characters change, too? Can I just - you know - check out one of the training stages a bit before we battle?"

This reaction was even better than he'd hoped for. Fushimi shut his eyes briefly, allowing himself a small but fully satisfied smile. _Misaki's reactions are always the best._ He could feel the familiar, comfortable warmth settling in his chest against the fierce pounding of his heart, and let himself bask in it for a moment. "Go ahead if you think you need the extra practice."

"Yeah, you wish!" When he opened his eyes again, Misaki was smirking down at his phone as he started up the stage. "I'm so gonna kick your - _wow!_ Awesome!" He beamed at the screen, eyes almost sparkling with admiration as he watched the redesigned figure maneuver through the graphically enhanced background. "This looks so damn cool!"

Fushimi sat down beside him, watching over his shoulder as he executed the tricks, boisterously cheering with each one he cleared and swearing at the misses. From that vantage point, his profile was easy to watch; Fushimi could take in the display of vivid expressions and enthusiasm across his face openly.

Honestly, he wouldn't have minded much if they didn't end up battling at all.

* * *

On the last day of the semester, grades for the term project were given out.

'You should look at your audience more, and raise your voice when presenting,' Fushimi's evaluation sheet noted. 'The work on this project was exceptional. A stronger presentation would sell it better.'

Full marks.

It was natural - his grades were always good, even when he didn't try - but somehow, looking at it now brought a little sense of accomplishment. As he tucked the paper into his bag and started the walk towards the cafeteria - no TA work that day, and Misaki's shift would have started already - Fushimi closed his eyes briefly and let his thoughts drift.

The hours of recording, with sweat dripping down Misaki's forehead over his still-energetic grin... Akiyama's patient replies to his fussiness over the graphics... staying up until the sun started to rise integrating them... Misaki's shining eyes and enthusiastic response... working on his laptop in the security team's base after the meeting while most of the team's members played the game on their cell phones...

His game. His, and Misaki's.

It felt like longer than a semester.

 _Well, it's over._ The summer break started tomorrow, so everything would go back to normal shortly. The thought wasn't unpleasant, though. He and Misaki could continue to play, after all - he had some ideas for expansion, too, and Misaki was always tossing out 'we should do this' and 'that would be so cool'. He could make it happen.

In his pocket, his phone buzzed; when he lifted it out, there was a new text message.

 **Yata Misaki:** did u get ur grade? ho wwas it? 4

Fushimi allowed himself a smile and a short hum, and put the phone back into his pocket without answering. _I'll see you soon enough anyway._

Right at that moment, the future felt bright and endless.

* * *

Yata texting translations for those who can't read through the typos:

1 So what did your teacher say about the game?  
2 No problem, I can go for hours - just try me!  
3 Yeah, but I'll still kick your ass, so be ready for it.  
4 Did you get your grade? How was it?


	9. Summer Love

**Building Bridges**

 **Summer Love**

"The north beach is open for swimming today," was Totsuka's greeting in the Homra bar on the first Sunday of the summer break. His smile was bright, and his tone was cheerful. "Let's all go together!"

 _The beach..._ Yata raised his head from where he'd slouched against the bar, lazy and slow in the summer heat. "They have surfboard rentals somewhere on the island, right?"

Totsuka beamed at him. "Of course! I'll take you there."

"All right!" He jumped off the stool, feeling a surge of excitement. _Waves and sand and surfing - yes!_ "Let's do it!"

Beside him, Bandou also seemed to have perked up. "Sun, sand, and _girls_ \- I'm in!"

"Anything to escape this sauna." Chitose groaned dramatically. "The lack of air conditioning... it burns..."

"I don't see you paying the bills," Kusanagi remarked, and then raised his eyebrows at Totsuka. "I didn't plan to close the bar today."

"It's fine - we can work it out somehow." The concern was waved aside carelessly; Totsuka turned his gaze on the small figure perched on the couch next to Mikoto's large, napping form. "Anna, you want to go swimming, right?"

She blinked at him, glanced at Mikoto, and then curled her hands together in front of her and gave a tiny nod. "Yes..."

Totsuka turned his bright smile on Kusanagi again, who sighed ruefully. "Guess there's no choice, then."

"Yes!" Yata turned to grin at Bandou, who offered him a fist-bump without hesitation. "I hope the waves are good!"

"Girls in bikinis, man! Where are your priorities?"

"Ah... King." Totsuka tapped on Mikoto's shoulder to wake him, not looking phased at all by the narrow look he got for it. "You're coming with us to the beach, right? It'll be fun. We can play beach volleyball, and Anna can build sandcastles. And, if we find a nice spot, we can probably do a bonfire as it gets dark."

"Hmm?" Mikoto returned his gaze steadily for a moment, then raised a hand to his face in thought.

"You don't have other plans, do you?"

"Mikoto..." Anna reached up to tug on the sleeve of his T-shirt, staring up at him almost forlornly. "The beach..."

He turned his gaze towards her slowly, and then sighed. "It's fine." His face softened into a small smile. "Let me make a phone call first."

"Great!" Totsuka clapped his hands together, clearly pleased with himself. "Everyone go get their swimsuits, and we'll meet back here in half an hour!"

* * *

"Everyone should return home to pick up a swimsuit," Munakata announced, chin resting serenely on his folded hands as he spoke, "and we'll reconvene in half an hour."

The room was silent as every member of the security team - those who weren't on shift - stared at him.

 _There is no way..._ Fushimi could feel the headache already building. _He wouldn't really..._

Awashima recovered first. "Of course, Professor, but... why?"

"Today's meeting," Munakata responded, fixing her with that even, untroubled smile, "will take place at the north beach, and will be extended until the evening."

Apparently, there was a way, and he would really. "How is that a meeting?" Fushimi muttered, clicking his tongue with irritation.

The beach. Wonderful. Sand everywhere, sweltering heat, and noisy swimmers and surfers all around. It sounded like an afternoon of hell.

Munakata shifted that calm gaze towards him. "Call it a mandatory group outing, if you wish."

There was a certain amount of nervous tittering about the table at that.

"Ah." Munakata blinked then, looking thoughtful for a moment. "Unfortunately, I didn't have any team-building exercises planned... However, if everyone is feeling anxious about not having a schedule outlined, then of course I could - "

"That's all right, Professor!" Hidaka blurted out.

Beside him, Goto was nodding vigorously. "We're fine, really!"

"D-Don't worry about it," Benzai added, with an awkward-looking smile.

"I see. Well, then." Munakata leaned back in his chair, looking satisfied. "Seeing as how we're all in agreement, let's break and reconvene as planned."

As everyone stood and began to file out of the room, Fushimi hung back, coming up to his boss before he could make his exit as well. "How necessary is this beach trip today?"

Munakata smiled, eyeing him with that irritatingly knowing gaze. "Mandatory is an absolute, Fushimi-kun," he responded, and turned to leave the room, unhurried.

Fushimi stared after him for a moment, nonplussed, and then clicked his tongue again, moving to follow.

 _This is the worst..._

* * *

The island that the university was built on had a strip of beach that extended around the north edge of it and trailed off into rockier ground to the east and west. Technically it was the only beach on the island, but people still referred to it as the 'north beach' as if there was a south beach or something to be confused with. The stretch of land it covered was actually fairly long, and the beach-goers on that particular Sunday were spaced out, some playing in the water, others sunbathing on towels stretched out over the sand, and a few on boards riding the waves already.

There weren't actually that many people, considering it was summer already. _Some of them went home for the break, probably._ Not that it mattered. The waves looked high, and there was plenty of room for everyone. Perfect, in Yata's opinion.

"Doesn't seem like there's that many girls," Chitose noted regretfully, glancing around as they made their way onto the beach.

"Doesn't matter," Dewa murmured, with a meaningful tilt of his head. Behind them, Kamamoto's unusually lean form had lagged behind, drawn into a conversation with two young women. "We brought that guy, remember?"

Bandou was staring at the sight in anguish. "He even has a girlfriend now..."

Akagi patted him on the shoulder, consolingly. "There are other girls around, you know."

"I think you know that one," Fujishima added quietly. He was staring past them, in the direction they'd come from.

Yata followed his gaze, and had to do a double-take. _What? No way..._

"Th-The ice princess!" Bandou grimaced, deflating a bit. "Why...?"

 _That's what I wanna know._ It wasn't just Awashima Seri - it was what looked like most of campus security, all in casual beach wear. And, near the outside edge of the group... _Saruhiko!_

Of all the places to run into his roommate, he wouldn't have predicted that the beach would be one of them. Yata set the end of his rented surfboard down, debating whether to go up and say something. His skin had prickled up when he'd noticed that Saruhiko was there - but with all those security guys around...

It was kind of stupid, but he felt awkward about it.

Saruhiko was wearing shorts, too - maybe even swim trunks. The button-up shirt he had on over them wasn't undone, but it was short-sleeved and left his collar open, and Yata didn't remember having seen it before. Not that he really paid that much attention to clothing. But still... seeing Saruhiko dressed so casually...

 _It's weird._ That was probably why his cheeks felt hot and his heart was suddenly pounding. Yata moved to look away, frowning to himself - then stopped when he noticed the taller figure talking with his roommate as they walked, and the frown shifted to a scowl.

 _That Munakata guy..._ His fingers clenched on the side of his surfboard, and he could feel his eyebrows coming down. Saruhiko hadn't even looked over to notice him - too busy talking with his _boss_.

The rush of heat that abruptly flooded Yata's head had him changing his mind about the 'awkward' part.

"Be right back!" he announced to his friends shortly, and then braced the surfboard in the sand and jogged over towards the approaching group. "Oi! Saruhiko!"

At that, his roommate did look up, blinking at him with obvious surprise. "Misaki?"

Yata did his best to ignore the fact that he was getting a few curious stares, focussing on meeting that startled gaze instead. "What are you doing here? Didn't you guys have some kind of meeting or something?"

Saruhiko's expression settled into an annoyed look; he clicked his tongue. "We _did_ ," he muttered.

"Oh, Yata-kun." Munakata spoke before he could wonder about that unhelpful answer. The professor smiled placidly at him when he turned his head. "Good afternoon. It's certainly been a while, hasn't it?"

 _Not long enough._ Yata frowned back, wondering if he should answer with something rude, but he was interrupted by a hand clamping down on his shoulder from behind.

A large, familiar hand. "M-Mikoto-san?"

Mikoto wasn't looking at him, though. "Munakata," he said slowly, the edge of a little smirk tipping on his lips.

A similar smile was forming on Munakata's face. "Suoh," he responded. "What a coincidence, meeting you here."

Mikoto made a low, amused-sounding 'hmph', withdrawing his hand from Yata's shoulder. "Yeah," he agreed. "Coincidence."

Yata blinked, looking and back and forth between the two of them. He wasn't sure why, but the exchange felt a little off...

Somewhere to the side, Awashima let out a sigh, sounding almost resigned. "Find us a spot to set up," she ordered crisply.

"Right!" one of the guys called back, and the group started to disperse.

 _What's that about?_ Yata quickly looked up at Saruhiko again, hoping maybe he'd have some clue.

The gaze that met his was just as baffled and annoyed as he felt. "Why are you here?" Saruhiko mumbled, shooting a quick, irritated glance at his boss. His eyes darted to Mikoto briefly as well, and his frown deepened before he settled back on Yata.

 _The fuck? I really don't get any of this._ Yata rolled his shoulder a little reflexively where Mikoto's hand had been. "Why the hell do you think? To have some fun, of course!"

"Well spoken, Yata-kun," Munakata responded, irritatingly calm. He glanced at Saruhiko sideways. "Fun is important. Wouldn't you agree, Fushimi-kun?"

Saruhiko clicked his tongue again, turning his gaze from Yata to glare somewhere off to the side.

"That side of you hasn't changed," Mikoto commented, sounding dry. He looked from Munakata to Yata and then to Saruhiko, and sighed. "Let's go back, Yata."

"Huh? Y-Yeah, okay." It really felt like there was something he was missing about this conversation, but it made his head hurt trying to piece it together. _Whatever, it probably doesn't matter._ Yata looked up to meet Saruhiko's eyes once more, feeling that now-familiar little shiver at the pit of his stomach that he was starting to associate with his roommate. "Later, Saruhiko."

"Yeah." Something in those eyes seemed to shift - he couldn't quite place it, but being the focus of it intensified the shivery feeling. "Later."

When he turned away, a bit reluctantly, Yata found that he'd been left behind. "Ah - wait, Mikoto-san!" He broke into a jog.

Towards the center of the beach, Kusanagi was setting up the umbrella over what seemed to be a kind of haphazardly-created station for their things, guarded over by a pair of cheap lawn chairs. Someone had apparently brought his surfboard over, and Yata could see Totsuka hovering over Anna closer to the water, where she was building a small construction out of sand. The others were not in sight.

 _Maybe they're in the water already._ Either way, that was where he was going.

Mikoto glanced sideways at him when he managed to catch up. "You shouldn't let that guy get to you."

It was such an unexpected comment that Yata just blinked at him for a moment, caught off-guard. "Eh? Who, Saruhiko?"

"No." His instructor faced forward again, and his hand moved for the pocket where he kept his cigarettes before he jerked it back, probably remembering the 'no smoking' rule belatedly. "Munakata."

Even the name was enough to sour his mood again. Yata scowled, making another soft 'ch' from the corner of his mouth. "He's not getting to me."

"Yeah?" They'd come up to the 'camp' by then; Mikoto raised a hand and ruffled Yata's hair unexpectedly, then moved past him towards one of the chairs. "That's good."

 _I really don't get it..._ Yata reached up to scratch his head reflexively, but managed to summon up a grin, spirits buoyed by the unexpected advice he'd been given by his instructor. _But!_ He balled his free hand into a determined fist. _I definitely won't let you down, Mikoto-san! There's no way that jerk is getting to me!_

The waves were definitely calling, though - Yata tucked that thought into the back of his mind, pulling off his T-shirt and tossing it at the mess of bags and towels and personal belongings before hurrying to grab his surfboard so he could get the most out of the afternoon.

* * *

"Fushimi."

Awashima's voice had him looking up from the edge of the castle he'd been shaping in the sand (which he'd started on more for something concrete to do than out of any real desire to build it). She was standing next to him, straight-backed and confident in her bikini, holding out a wide-brimmed straw hat.

Fushimi turned his eyes from the hat to her serious expression, frowning. "What?"

"Take it," she instructed, firmly. "You spend too much time indoors - your skin is pale, and I doubt you're used to being exposed to the sun." That came with a short sigh, and a small smile that looked unusually soft on her face. "Even if you use sunscreen, it's best to wear a hat."

He couldn't exactly deny the logic in it. "... Thanks."

"It's fine - that's why I brought extras." She turned to march back up the beach, toward the towels.

 _It's not like you have to do me any favors, though._ Fushimi watched her go for a moment out of the corner of his eyes, then settled the hat comfortably on top of his head. It cast a much-needed shadow over his face; suddenly, it was a lot easier to focus on his task.

 _Still, I guess I won't turn it down._

A loud, familiar whoop drew his attention back out to where the waves rose up; Misaki was surfing, balanced on his board with apparent ease, his face split by a wide, excited grin. The spot where Fushimi was sitting gave him a good view, so even at a distance he could see the play of the light in Misaki's hair, the water splashing around him... his thin, toned arms and chest exposed to the sun and the waves...

Somehow, it was mesmerizing, watching the lines of his body shift as he moved, naked skin just tanned enough to protect him from burning swiftly. As Fushimi watched, sitting back on his heels with the sandcastle mostly forgotten in front of him for the moment, the wave seemed to swallow Misaki up from behind as if embracing him - and then gradually subsided, leaving him perched low on his board. He laughed, loud and carefree as always, dropping back down to start the paddle back out.

 _Misaki..._ The familiar restless feeling stirred in Fushimi's stomach; that strange, aimless urge he felt sometimes in those moments when Misaki seemed particularly blinding. He wasn't sure what to do with the feeling, but in that moment he could vividly picture the water dripping from Misaki's smooth, bare skin, driven into a crooked path by the contours of his muscles, and felt an answering twinge of excitement within his own body.

His mind shied back from the meaning, but he thought that soon... maybe...

"That sandcastle..." A small voice startled him out of his thoughts; Fushimi glanced up sharply, and found a girl, maybe ten or eleven years old and with a head of unusually colorless hair, crouched on the other side of his small construction project. She looked up at him with large, red-tinted eyes. "It's very pretty." One small pale finger reached out to almost touch the edge.

The unexpected intrusion caught him off-guard; Fushimi just blinked at her for a moment, unable to think of a response.

 _What - ?_

"Anna! Don't just wonder off like - oh, Fushimi-kun!" Totsuka's pleasantly smiling face came into view above the girl; he bent down a ways to look at them. "What are you doing, building a sandcastle?"

Immediately and instinctively, Fushimi reached out and swiped an arm across the castle, knocking it apart. "It's nothing," he responded sharply, spreading the sand with both hands to smooth out any traces of the building process.

"Oh... that's a shame..." Totsuka sounded disappointed. "It looked really good, too, didn't it, Anna?"

The girl - Anna, apparently - was still watching Fushimi seriously, not showing any signs of apprehension even as he destroyed the object she'd been admiring. "Yes," she agreed, "it was good." She lowered her gaze then, small fingers running through the damp sand slowly. "It would have been nice to look at it for longer."

"It would've been messed up when the tide came in anyway," Fushimi told her, keeping his tone unconcerned. Something about the way she seemed to quietly mourn the broken castle was disconcerting. He rose to his feet, not wanting to watch any longer. "You can build your own if you want - I'm leaving."

"Ah, well, if you didn't like it, that's fine," Totsuka responded, straightening up to smile at him. "But, you know, it's still possible to enjoy things even when they aren't permanent." He shrugged in a casual, carefree sort of way. "Most things aren't, these days - it doesn't make them any less valuable."

It was really irritating how easily he made that kind of canny observation. Fushimi clicked his tongue, turning away without responding. _Clinging to impermanent things..._ It was a waste of time, in the end - he'd learned that lesson long ago. And those were memories he didn't want to dredge up, either; the past was better off being left behind.

 _Better off buried, and forgotten._

"Anyway, take care, Fushimi-kun," Totsuka called after him as he started back up the beach. "We'll see you later, okay?"

He didn't bother to answer that, either.

The place where the security team had set up 'camp', of sorts, was at the higher end of the beach, so it was a bit of a walk from where he'd settled down to work - but the location was more or less isolated, and completely safe from the tide when it rose. Someone had apparently set up a foldable table, and there was a covered tray with a ridiculous amount of sweetened bean paste on it.

Fushimi curled his lip with distaste. _That woman is a menace._

"Back already, Fushimi-kun?" Munakata smiled serenely back at him when he turned, and for a moment, Fushimi could only stare, unsettled by his appearance. The small, fitted black speedo didn't leave much to the imagination, but he wore it as if it were only natural, shoulders back and posture radiating comfort and confidence. His skin and hair were drenched, glasses replaced with goggles, and he was carrying a rented surfboard under one arm.

 _Seriously..._ Fushimi frowned, unimpressed, and decided not to comment. "I'm getting something to drink."

"That's a good idea - with this heat, it's best to stay hydrated." Munakata set the surfboard down, lifting the goggles and reaching for a towel. "Perhaps I'll join you."

Fushimi shrugged, noncommittal, and retrieved a bottle of water from the cooler that Awashima had prepared. It was refreshing even just to hold it. "I didn't think you were the surfing type," he commented, twisting the cap off.

"Ah, yes, surfing." Munakata had replaced his glasses after drying his face off, and reached down to pull out a drink for himself. "I thought it might be appropriate to try it, considering the location... It's quite an invigorating activity. I can't say I'm as skilled as some of those others, though."

The comment had Fushimi turning his gaze back to the water, his eyes finding Misaki within seconds. His roommate was back up on the board again, riding another wave with a bright, stupid grin on his face. It was still just as enthralling to watch as before, the way he moved through the water with his hair clinging to his face and his swimsuit sticking to his body...

"Yata-kun is very impressive, isn't he?" When he jerked his gaze over, Munakata had his eyes on the waves as well; he looked back when he noticed that Fushimi had turned, showing an understanding without any demand behind it. "I suppose a certain amount of natural athleticism comes in handy."

Fushimi clicked his tongue and looked away, embarrassed at being caught. "I guess, being an idiot, he should have some other talents to make up for it," he muttered, deliberately taking a drink from his water. It was almost shockingly cold running down his throat, but the sensation was a nice distraction from his thoughts.

"Inclinations vary from person to person," Munakata agreed. "That's why bonds between people are the most interesting thing about them. You never can tell how things will proceed until you see the different personalities come together." He twisted off his own drink's cap, almost idly. "It really is fascinating to observe."

 _You say it like people are subjects in a research project of yours._ "I guess," Fushimi responded, not bothering to mask his lack of enthusiasm for the topic.

Munakata was still regarding him with that canny gaze. "You don't have any interest in it?"

He shrugged again. "I think it's overrated. People are fickle - those so-called bonds don't last very long most of the time, anyway."

"I suppose that's one way of looking at it." There wasn't any judgement or distaste in the observation. "Personally, I would say that people are driven to seek happiness in different ways." Sunlight glinted off of his glasses as he tilted his head. "Every bond, even a broken or abandoned one, contains a story that means something to those involved."

Fushimi held his gaze for a moment, then lowered his eyes again, staring down at the bottle in his hand. Somehow, those words felt like they soothed something small and anxious within him; it was both comforting and disconcerting at the same time, and he wasn't sure what to make of it.

 _Seeking happiness..._ What did that even entail? It wasn't something Fushimi had felt like pursuing; as far back as he could remember, it had always been a hopeless prospect. And even if he seriously wanted to try it one day, he didn't think he'd know how to go about it. 'Happiness' was such a nebulous concept, flighty and uncertain, flitting around his head elusively as he tried and failed to define what it meant for him.

Holding back was easier - safer in the end, too.

"Well, perhaps this is a topic for another time." Munakata's calm, even tone broke apart the silence that had stretched out between them. "I believe I've had my fill of surfing for today, so it's time to return to the locker rooms and change clothing."

"Sure," Fushimi responded automatically, without much feeling or interest. As his boss moved past him, he sat down on one of the towels that were stretched out in the shade cast by the large beach umbrella, turning his eyes back to the water again. Misaki was still clear in his vision - a small, unreachable figure moving with the kind of confidence that could only be born from ignorance.

"Idiot," he muttered under his breath, and didn't bother to consider who it might be directed at.

* * *

The sunlight was fading by the time Yata gave in and made his way back to the shore. His stomach was complaining and his limbs were aching, but he was grinning as he carried the board back up to where Kamamoto, Totsuka, and Kusanagi were gathered. Mikoto was sleeping in one of the lawn chairs, looking like he hadn't moved from when Yata had left, and Anna had tucked herself in against his chest, eyes closed with contentment.

The number of people on the beach seemed to have decreased by a lot, too.

"Welcome back, Yata-chan," Kusanagi greeted him as he came up to their 'camp'. "You were out there for quite a while - the waves must've been good."

"It was awesome!" Yata responded enthusiastically. He set the board down, reaching for a towel. "You guys should give it a try sometime, seriously!"

"Ah, I did try surfing once..." Totsuka put a hand to his chin in thought, then grinned, looking a bit rueful. "I couldn't quite manage to stay on the board for more than a second or two."

"Your coordination is a bit lacking," Kusanagi remarked, looking amused.

"You guys are missing out!" Yata toweled his chest off quickly, draping the damp fabric around his neck to catch the droplets from his hair. "It just takes a little practice, that's all." His stomach made a low gurgle as he straightened up; he smiled sheepishly. "Huh, guess I'm kind of hungry."

"Just in time, Yata-san!" Kamamoto grinned back at him. "We'll be starting the bonfire soon. Right, Kusanagi-san?"

"Ah." Kusanagi hesitated for a moment. "Well..."

"Excuse me for interrupting." Awashima's cool voice cut into that momentary silence. She was standing just a short ways from them, wearing a straw hat and a very well-filled-out bikini. "Professor Munakata thought we should invite you to join us at the bonfire pits up top. Apparently they're quite limited, but we've managed to secure one." She fixed Kusanagi with a somewhat severe gaze. "Open bonfires on the beach are not permitted, as I think you know."

"Right, of course." Kusanagi spread his hands, looking a bit rueful. "Thanks for the reminder, Seri-chan."

"We'd love to join you for a bonfire, though, wouldn't we, guys?" Totsuka turned his smile from Kusanagi to Kamamoto to Yata, untroubled as always. "The more the merrier, right?"

"Y-Yeah..." Yata couldn't quite look at Awashima - he didn't know where he was supposed to put his eyes. _Saruhiko will probably be there, too, won't he?_ That thought was enough to warm him to the idea. "Right, sounds good."

Kamamoto looked a little dubious; he glanced over at Kusanagi as Awashima was leaving. "Is Bandou gonna be okay with that?" he asked, in an undertone.

Kusanagi shrugged, looking mildly amused. "He'll have to be, I suppose."

"It'll work out fine," Totsuka assured them, waving a hand as if to brush aside the concern. "Put a shirt on, Yata-chan, and let's go gather everyone else."

* * *

It was a good half an hour before they managed to get all of their things together and make their way up towards the outskirts of the university grounds. As Awashima had promised, the security team was gathered around one of the bonfire pits, with two open coolers full of drinks and a table stacked with food. A few of the members had started what looked like an impromptu game of volleyball with a makeshift net; the rest were casually chatting and eating or drinking around the cheerily burning fire.

Yata's eyes found Saruhiko without much trouble; he was sitting off towards the side by himself on one of the logs, a half-eaten plate of food beside him and his eyes on his phone.

 _Heh. Figures._ "Oi, Kamamoto." Yata tucked his hands into the pockets of the hoodie he'd thrown on over his swimsuit. "D'you think it's okay to have some of the food? I'm kinda hungry."

Kamamoto shrugged. "Why not just ask?"

The idea of going up to Awashima was unappealing - Yata could see her standing near the pit, talking with a woman he thought he'd seen before but couldn't quite place. But the alternative... "I don't see that professor anywhere."

"Just go ahead, Yata-chan," Kusanagi told him, with a bit of a smile. "We were invited, after all."

That was just what he wanted to hear. "Awesome - thanks, Kusanagi-san!"

Saruhiko hadn't even moved by the time Yata sank down beside him, fully stocked plate in hand. "Shouldn't you be socializing with your teammates or something?"

"I wasn't aware that there were rules for bonfires," Saruhiko drawled, but lowered his phone, meeting Yata's gaze willingly enough. "Anyway, it wasn't exactly my idea to come here." He frowned a little. "And don't you have friends you need to be spending time with?"

"I don't _need_ to spend time with them." Yata frowned right back, not really serious about it, and positioned his plate for better access. "Besides, I'm here with you right now, right?"

Saruhiko was quiet for a bit. Yata took that as his cue to dig in, and busied himself with filling his stomach while his roommate sat beside him in what felt like companionable silence.

It was a pretty good atmosphere, actually.

"We never did come up with a name," Saruhiko murmured, just as Yata was setting aside his plate.

"Huh?"

"The game we made." A small smile had formed on Saruhiko's face when he glanced over; his glasses reflected some of the light from the bonfire, making it difficult to see his eyes. Which was kind of a shame. "I don't think we ever came up with a name for it."

He was right. "Huh." Yata frowned a little, straightening in his seat. "You have any ideas?"

"Not really." Saruhiko shrugged, looking unconcerned. "As long as it's not something lame, anything is fine."

"Hah - as if I'll come up with something lame!" Yata grinned, leaning forward. "I'll give it a great name, just wait!"

Saruhiko hummed low, sounding amused. "If you say so."

Yata drew himself up to respond, but was interrupted by a tap on his shoulder. "Yata-chan," Kusanagi said, offering an apologetic smile when he turned his head, "can I borrow you for a bit?"

"Oh - yeah, sure." He glanced quickly at Saruhiko, who was watching the exchange without much expression. "What is it?"

"We seem to have misplaced our resident welding instructor." Kusanagi shrugged, looking a bit rueful. "I'm not too sure when he wondered off on his own, but did you want to go see if you can find him? Anna seems to be a bit worried."

"Mikoto-san's missing?" Yata pushed himself to his feet immediately, offering a grin. "Right, leave it to me - I'll find him!" He looked back down at his roommate, expectantly. "You'll come with me, right, Saruhiko?"

The light that reflected off of Saruhiko's glasses was making his face hard to read. He was frowning, though. "Wouldn't you rather find him by yourself?" he mumbled.

"Hah? Why would I?" Yata raised an eyebrow at him. "It's better to have company when you're looking for something, right?" He scratched at the side of his jaw, starting to feel a little awkward about it. "Plus, I guess I kind of... want to keep talking with you... or something."

Saruhiko stared at him for what felt like a really long moment. Yata could feel the heat rising on his cheeks, and hoped it wasn't obvious with the poor lighting. _Say something, why don't you?_

Finally, after what seemed like eternity, his roommate pushed himself slowly to his feet. "Let's go, then," he murmured, not quite looking in Yata's direction.

The smile that built on his face in response was part relief and part gratification. "R-Right!" Yata did his best to ignore the sudden fluttering in his stomach, offering a quick, "We're off, then!" to Kusanagi and turning to follow Saruhiko from the fire pit.

* * *

Despite the earlier mention of "talking" with him, Misaki was surprisingly quiet as they walked towards the path that would lead them back down to the beach. The silence wasn't really uncomfortable, though - Fushimi felt like he'd had his fill of people talking at and around him, so it was nice to just be able to feel Misaki's presence beside him and let the darkness slowly close around them as the light and the noise from the bonfire dimmed.

 _He was the one who asked me to come with him._ The thought gave him another mostly-pleasant tingling sensation. That was kind of nice, being wanted. Even if it was to help look for someone he didn't particularly care for.

Maybe they wouldn't find Mikoto, though. Fushimi considered that, his gaze following the path idly as they joined it in its downward slope. It wasn't like he even had to be at the beach, necessarily. Maybe he'd wandered off somewhere else, and he'd end up back at the fire pit before them. The two of them could spend the whole night looking around for him, and never find him at all.

He was surprised how much that idea appealed to him.

"It's kind of weird being here in the dark." Misaki finally spoke up then, his voice unusually hushed; when Fushimi glanced over, he was rubbing at the back of his neck, a bit nervously. "I dunno, everything just seems totally different, somehow."

The motion shifted the hoodie he was wearing; Fushimi's attention was drawn to the line of bare chest and stomach that was exposed from his neck downward. Even in the dim light, he could make out the clean, slim lines of muscle and flesh. It was distracting, somehow, and he felt a little weird about it, so he turned his gaze forward again and deliberately swallowed before answering. "Don't trip."

"I'm not gonna trip!" Misaki was scowling; he could see it out of the corner of his eye, and it was somehow relaxing. This was good - normal. "I'm just saying it's different - it's not like I'm scared or anything, just... you know..."

"I didn't say you were scared." Fushimi half turned to raise a meaningful eyebrow at him, allowing himself a tiny smirk. "Are you compensating for something, Misaki?"

"O-Of course not! Shut the hell up!" Misaki let out an annoyed-sounding huff of breath, marching ahead with a kind of aggravated determination. "And hurry up, or I'll leave you behind."

Fushimi smiled to himself, increasing his pace a little to make up the distance. _You're too simple, Misaki._

The path wound a bit; around the corner, Fushimi could see the dark outline of the changing rooms, with the lighter shade of the sand visible just beyond. The dull crashing of the waves against the shore was getting gradually louder as they moved downward; he could smell the ocean even from there.

It really was different at night, he had to admit, although he didn't feel like saying it out loud. As they finished rounding the bend and the rest of the beach came into sight, it was a little surprising to see how everything had transformed into soft shades of dark blue and grey, accentuated by moonlight. The beating of the waves against the shore seemed less harsh - like the ocean was just breathing deeply, rather than crashing fruitlessly into the sand.

 _That's stupid, though._ Fushimi turned his head to the side, irritated by the thought, and his eyes caught on the unmistakeable sight of two figures standing together behind the change rooms.

He recognized Munakata first, eyes catching on the low gleam of moonlight against his glasses, but the broad figure of Suoh Mikoto standing opposite his boss was also immediately identifiable. They weren't far apart, and it looked like they were talking casually about something - obviously the sound of their voices was drowned out by the waves, although he wasn't sure if he would've been close enough to make it out regardless. It didn't seem like a conversation they wanted overheard.

 _Found him, then._ This would be the time to say something to Misaki - that was the whole point of them coming down here, after all - but his earlier thought about how it might be nice to not find Mikoto at all was still lurking at the back of his mind, so Fushimi hesitated, caught in a moment of indecision.

As he slowed his steps, the shadow-edged figure of Munakata stepped forward, bracing a hand on Mikoto's shoulder, and then -

... and... then...

Fushimi stopped in his tracks and stared, momentarily dumbstruck.

 _They can't be..._

"Saruhiko?" Misaki's confused voice reached his ears just seconds before the sound of a few hurried footsteps moved back in his direction. "What's wr - HNG?" His words abruptly cut off into a sudden, sharp gasp. "Wh-Wh-Wha - ?"

That was enough to snap him out of his trance; Fushimi turned abruptly, took in Misaki's incredulous face, and clicked his tongue. "I'm going ahead," he muttered, moving hastily past his roommate in the direction of the beach.

If he kept moving, there would be no visibility of the two behind that building. For now, that seemed good enough.

"O-Oi..." The protest came out weak; Misaki didn't even bother to argue, and after only a split second of hesitation, Fushimi heard a soft curse and the sound of footsteps scrambling after him.

 _Kissing behind the change rooms - seriously!_ He felt a mix of irritation and disgust rush through him, filling in all the cracks between the shock, and his fingers twitched reflexively, pace increasing even as he hit the sand and his sandal-clad feet sank in. _Are you grade-schoolers, or what?_

Now that his thoughts were starting to clear, it felt as if this revelation fit neatly into place, like a missing puzzle piece. All the references to Suoh Mikoto in connection with Munakata... the awkward smiles and the funny looks... those comments about what a coincidence it was, Munakata's TA rooming with one of Suoh's students...

 _Everyone knew about this but me._ How annoying. Fushimi clicked his tongue, lips curling down into a scowl.

"Oi, Saruhiko!"

Well. Probably not everyone...

"Stop already!" Misaki grabbed his wrist suddenly, bringing him to an abrupt halt, and Fushimi turned to meet his baffled, frustrated gaze. "Where the hell are you even going?"

Fushimi frowned back at him. "Why, did you want to stay and watch?"

"O-Of course not!" Even in the dim light, he could tell that Misaki was blushing, clearly flustered. "That - that's not the point! Don't just go wandering around aimlessly in the dark!"

 _What did you expect me to do?_ Fushimi turned fully, shifting his wrist in Misaki's grip. It occurred to him that he could probably pull free, but for whatever reason, he didn't want to do it just yet. Anyway, it wasn't like Misaki was letting go, either. "I didn't feel like getting caught spying on them, did you?"

"... 'Ch!" Misaki scowled, obviously acknowledging the logic despite his annoyance. "You still didn't have to run off by yourself like that," he grumbled, and then let out what sounded like an aggrieved sigh. "Man, that surprised the shit out of me! Mikoto-san and that guy... Seriously! What the fuck?"

"You're telling me," Fushimi muttered, and clicked his tongue again, the fresh memory of his boss leaning in towards the man he'd instantly disliked playing again in his head with a little too much vivid detail to be comfortable. He could see it way too clearly: the moment their lips had made contact... when they'd kissed...

Kissed.

 _Misaki's flushed face, swollen lips, eyes burning with want - and he was leaning in again without stopping to think beyond the unexpectedly fierce desire..._

The sudden assault from a memory he'd thought he'd buried a long time ago had a rush of heat flooding up over Fushimi's neck and onto his face. All at once, it was difficult to think - even to _breathe_.

What it felt like... he thought he remembered...

"I guess I never thought about it, though," Misaki was saying, somewhere outside of all of that. He was staring off to the side, smiling with what looked like a mix of wistfulness and regret. "I mean, Mikoto-san's been kind of like my hero, the guy I looked up to... I never really thought he'd have his own things to worry about."

Something in Fushimi's chest tightened in response; he drew in what felt like an unreasonably painful breath. _Don't let me see an expression like that._ His wrist felt clammy under Misaki's fingers; the callused skin wrapped around it was almost too warm for comfort. But he didn't pull away.

Didn't want to pull away.

"Well... I'm an idiot, though, right? You're always saying that." Misaki made a small, amused-sounding 'heh' and looked up, meeting Fushimi's gaze with eyes that seemed to glow, impossibly bright even in the darkness. "Saruhiko?"

The storm in his chest had reached the breaking point; all of a sudden, it felt like an impossible task to hold in the emotions that were clamoring against the inside of his skin. "Misaki," Fushimi murmured, too overwhelmed to even recognize the familiar edge of panic that was scrambling at the back of his head as he let his strongest desire drive him forward.

Pulling Misaki forward by the grip on his wrist, he leaned in and pressed their lips together.


	10. Confession

**Building Bridges**

 **Confession**

There was a split second between the moment when Saruhiko tugged him in and the instant their lips met, and in that split second, Yata was pretty sure he didn't believe it was really going to happen.

It was still kind of sinking in that Mikoto was probably going out with Munakata - seriously, _that_ guy, for real? - and here they were, on the beach in the fucking _moonlight_ , with Saruhiko leaning in towards him like this was the big romance scene in an action movie or something, and in that fleeting second before it actually happened, all he could think was, _There's no way this is what I think it is._

And then Saruhiko's lips were on his, clumsy and soft, pressing in with an edge of desperation, and Yata's brain kind of stalled out into auto-pilot.

 _He's kissing me. Saruhiko is..._

 _Saruhiko is kissing me..._

It was nothing like the first time - that brief bump of what technically qualified as a kiss. It wasn't like the others, either - hungrily mashing their mouths together in some drunken rush of heat and weird urges. There was no overpowering smell of alcohol, no cheap couch, no haze fogging over his brain. This was Saruhiko, completely sober, putting his lips on Yata on a beach under the moonlight, firm and fervent and determined. His eyes were closed, and his breathing was ragged; the rapid beat of his pulse throbbed against the fingers Yata still had wrapped around his wrist.

 _He's serious..._

The shock that had frozen Yata solid was fading; he felt his stomach flutter, a twinge of something unmistakably pleasant forming at the base of it. Saruhiko was kissing him - _seriously_ kissing him - and that thought excited him at least as much as the enticingly warm sensation of a mouth pressed against his own.

 _I think... I've wanted to..._

His eyes slid shut; he was just starting to press back into the kiss, egged on by the pounding of his own heart and the fierce rush of emotion he couldn't quite sort out, fingers squeezing Saruhiko's wrist reflexively... And then, just as suddenly as he'd started, Saruhiko broke away and pulled back, his motions jerky.

Yata opened his eyes and stared dumbly at him, not really sure what to say or where to start. _That just... That just happened, right now..._ Saruhiko was looking right back at him with a kind of bewilderment, as if he couldn't believe he'd just done that, and somehow or another, he seemed... lost.

 _Why? It's not like - I mean, it's okay._ All at once, he wanted to say that out loud - to offer reassurance, and chase that expression away. Yata swallowed, trying to ignore the flush he knew was spread across his face. "Saruhiko - "

"Oi! Yata-san!"

The sound of Kamamoto's voice had him jerking his hand back from Saruhiko's wrist, head whipping around wildly to catch sight of his friend jogging down the path towards them. "Hah..." The breath escaped him in a rush; he could feel his shoulders slump, and couldn't bring himself to look back at Saruhiko. "Seriously...?"

 _At a time like this... What the hell?_

Saruhiko was completely still and quiet; he didn't even make one of those tongue-clicking noises.

There wasn't much time to wonder about that, though. Yata scowled at Kamamoto, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and willing his heart to slow down. It didn't help that the thought, _I was just kissed,_ kept echoing through his head like some kind of ridiculous mantra that just wouldn't shut up. His skin was still prickled up from the excitement; it felt like he could float away.

Fucking confusing, all of it. "What?" he demanded crossly, as his older friend came up to them.

 _He... He didn't see any of that, right?_

If he had, he wasn't showing any sign of it. "Totsuka-san brought sparklers, and it sounds like everyone wants to try them out." Kamamoto shrugged, offering a lopsided smile. "I figured you'd want to know about it."

Ordinarily, he would have. Now... Yata resisted the urge to scream in frustration. "Okay, yeah, I got it, so just go back and - "

"I'm going ahead," Saruhiko announced, sudden and sharp, brushing past the both of them with unexpected haste.

"Wait - Saruhiko!" Yata stared after his roommate, feeling totally confused. The sudden uncertainty kept him rooted to the ground for a moment too long; by the time he went to chase after, cursing under his breath, Saruhiko was already a good distance ahead. _Why are you leaving_ now _?_

"Ah - Yata-san, wait up!"

He'd just reached the bottom of the path when a familiar figure stepped out from the shadow around the change rooms, flicking away a cigarette in casual defiance of the no-smoking rule at the beach. "What are you two doing?" Mikoto asked, eyeing them with mild interest.

Despite everything, the sight of his instructor still had Yata slowing to a halt instinctively. He mentally swore, shooting a fleeting glance at Saruhiko's rapidly retreating back, and did his best to swallow his frustration. "N-Nothing really..."

"Oh, Mikoto-san!" Kamamoto's greeting was far more enthusiastic. "Totsuka-san and Anna wanted to break out the sparklers, so I came down to find you two."

"Hmm?" Mikoto glanced at him, then turned his gaze to Yata. "You were here, too?"

A sudden, unwanted mental image of what he'd observed earlier flashed through his head. Yata jerked guiltily, turning his gaze aside as his face grew hot again. "R-Right, we - we came down here to find you." His voice sounded kind of high and unnatural, but he managed to force a grin and scratched nervously at the back of his neck, hoping it wouldn't be too obvious. "G-Guess we went too far, right? Hah..."

 _Is that guy still around?_ A quick glance at the change rooms didn't reveal anything out of the ordinary - no movement, either.

Maybe Munakata had gone on ahead.

"That so?" Mikoto didn't seem to have noticed his anxiety - that, or he didn't care. "All right." He turned to move up the path. "Let's go."

The pace he set was somehow agonizingly slow. Yata wouldn't have minded normally, but right then he was so impatient he felt about ready to burst. He couldn't get his earlier moment with Saruhiko out of his head - his thoughts just wouldn't shut up. _Why did he go on ahead like that? Why didn't he wait? Why didn't he say anything?_

 _... Why did he kiss me?_

The answer to that one was painfully obvious. _He... He likes me then, right?_ Just thinking about it made that fluttery feeling in his stomach flare up again; his cheeks burned. _That's gotta be it. Why else would he kiss me?_

It... wasn't really a bad thought...

"Are you feeling okay, Yata-san?" When he looked up again, startled, Kamamoto was eyeing him with some concern. "You're looking kind of weird."

Yata jerked a little, but managed a scowl. "H-Hah? The hell are you talking about? I'm obviously fine, dumbass - don't say shit like that!"

"Oh..." Kamamoto blinked, obviously a little confused by the reaction, but shrugged. "Right. If you say so..."

"Damn right I do," Yata muttered, shoving his hands back into his pockets again with an agitated huff of breath. He definitely wasn't ready to tell anyone else about this - hell, he probably needed to talk with Saruhiko first, right? And then -

And then _what_?

 _Shit..._ That thought had him worrying at his lower lip, suddenly anxious. _What do I say?_ Saruhiko hadn't confessed to him or anything. And he hadn't thought about it at all. _Do I - y'know - like him? Like that?_ Now that he thought about it... the answer had to be 'yes'. Yata shut his eyes, balling his hands into fists as he thought back to all those moments he'd tried to brush aside. All the touching and the closeness and the weird feelings... And then the kiss.

He couldn't really deny that he'd liked it. A lot. His heart rate picked up again just thinking about it - Saruhiko had _kissed_ him! It was unreal.

It was... amazing.

There was warmth spreading through his whole body; Yata felt the smile finally building, and didn't bother to hold it back. Saruhiko had kissed him - Saruhiko liked him - Saruhiko was going to be his - his boyfriend, or something, probably, once they talked about it. And now that all the shock and the confusion was starting to pass, he was so happy - so fucking _excited_ \- it felt like he'd explode.

 _This is really happening._ It was the weirdest thing, but whatever; if it felt this good, he couldn't complain.

All that was left was to find Saruhiko and get all of that stuff sorted out. _I'll just - I'll confess to him._ Yata anxiously looked around the crowd at the fire pit as they drew up to it, trying to catch a glimpse of his roommate. _He was the one who kissed me, so it's only fair, right?_

Even if he had no idea what he was going to say... _Whatever, the important thing is the feeling behind it!_

He... wasn't seeing Saruhiko, though. Yata frowned, stopping near the bonfire to scan over the place again. _Where the hell did that guy go, after all that?_

"Yata-san?" Kamamoto was studying him with some confusion. "Totsuka-san and the others are over by the trees, so - "

"Oi," Yata interrupted him impatiently, still raising his head to look through the scattered clusters of people, "d'you see Saruhiko anywhere?"

There was a brief, awkward pause. "Uh - "

"Fushimi-kun left just a few minutes ago," a familiar even-toned voice said from his left. Yata jerked his head around to meet Munakata's patient gaze. "He was apparently feeling ill, and chose to return to his room."

 _He... left?_ "Why?" Yata muttered, more to himself than anything. He could feel his brow furrowing up, confusion sinking in through the earlier haze of happiness, and turned his gaze forward again, frowning to himself. It was hard to think why Saruhiko might kiss him and then just leave like that.

 _Maybe he's worried about my reaction?_ It kind of made sense. The kiss had totally come out of nowhere, so obviously it wasn't planned or anything. And it had to be pretty rough, doing that kind of thing without knowing what reaction you'd get.

 _So then, all I have to do is confess to him, right? That should solve everything._

It was a relief to have that figured out, anyway. "All right, thanks," he responded shortly to Munakata, not looking at him - seriously, he wasn't sure if he could straight-up look that guy in the face after what he'd seen earlier - and turned abruptly to walk away. "I'm leaving."

"Huh? Yata-san?" Kamamoto quickly caught up to him. His voice sounded baffled. "You're not staying for the sparklers?"

Ugh. He did kind of want to, but... "Go ahead without me."

There was a brief, awkward pause. "You sure?"

Yata glanced at him, catching the edge of concern and feeling a bit guilty over it. "Sorry," he responded, summoning a half-smile. "I'm fine - it's not a big deal." He scratched at the back of his neck, not quite feeling comfortable enough to explain yet. "Just... I've got something I really need to do right now. Tell everyone I'll catch up tomorrow, okay?"

Kamamoto's face seemed to clear up at that - he smiled back, relaxing somewhat. "Sure thing! I'll tell them." He started to turn, then looked back once, adding, "Good luck with that important thing you're doing! Tell me how it goes, all right?"

Well, it was something he was probably going to tell everyone, sooner or later. "Yeah" - Yata grinned back, raising a fist to show his determination - "for sure!"

As he left the area, the idea of what he was about to do was already starting to sink in; Yata felt his resolve falter a little as he considered it. So, he'd get back to the dorm and go up to Fushimi, and... what?

The feeling was important, but... seriously, what _was_ he going to say?

 _"I thought about it, and I realized I like you. Please go out with me." Something like that?_ It was kind of the standard - at least, he thought it was. It wasn't like he had a lot of experience with it or anything. Yata frowned to himself, feeling a little bit anxious. How would Saruhiko react?

 _He kissed me, so he should be happy no matter how I say it, right?_ But he didn't want to get made fun of, either - and besides, this was important. A confession should come from the heart! It was going to be the start of their dating life, right? _So... "I realized I've liked you for a long time"? "I can't hold back any more"?_

He wasn't sure if that was an improvement at all.

Yata's frown deepened to a scowl. _I don't know how to do this crap... Why should it be so complicated, anyway?_ Maybe he could just yank Saruhiko into a kiss or something. If he pulled it off, it could be really cool... They'd kiss, and then he'd lean back and look into Saruhiko's eyes and say, _"Now we're even. So... go out with me?"_

That would actually be totally cool. _I'll bet that's how Mikoto-san did it! He would totally confess in an awesome way!_

But with Saruhiko... Yata grimaced, considering it. Somehow, he got the feeling he'd get a raised eyebrow and a clicked tongue. Seriously, that guy had no appreciation for fancy moves or anything. And, if he was being honest, he wasn't even sure if he could do it. The idea of grabbing Saruhiko and kissing him like that - out of nowhere, all of a sudden - made his cheeks burn and his palms start to sweat. It was nerve-wracking, doing this kind of stuff!

 _It - it's probably better to stick with the basics anyway, right?_

By the time he made it to the dorms, his stomach was in knots and his head was swimming, but he thought - hoped - he had some idea of how he was going to do this. Yata hesitated in front of the door to their room, drawing up his courage, and then took a deep breath and unlocked the door, swinging it open.

... to a dark room, and a formless, blanket-covered lump representing his roommate on the top bunk.

For a moment, all he could do was stand there, too stunned to even react.

 _Seriously?_

After all that... Yata slumped, letting out a frustrated huff, and shut the door behind him, resisting the urge to slam it. He'd summoned up all his nerve and planned out his confession and everything, and that uncooperative bastard had the nerve to just go ahead and go to sleep? It was seriously unfair.

 _Maybe he's really not feeling well?_ That could explain the weird behavior...

Well, either way, he wasn't going to climb up there and wake his roommate up just to make a confession. There was a timing to these kinds of things, right? Yata sighed again, scratching the back of his head with a certain amount of agitation. _All right - I'll get up early tomorrow, and make us breakfast._ Home-cooked food would be a good start, he was pretty sure.

Just... hopefully his nerves would quiet down enough to let him actually _sleep_.

* * *

Fushimi's night was restless.

He'd expected it, for the most part, but it was still irritating. The lingering remains of his bad decisions chased him all the way from the beach to the fire pit, and from the fire pit to the dorms, and from there right into bed, shaping into a formless derision that took on a life and laughed at him from the shadowy recesses of his thoughts.

Normally, that voice in his head was cynical, but right then, it seemed to giggle at him with a malicious glee, hauntingly familiar. It was like it was taunting him - 'Oho, so it's that kind of feeling, huh? What a laugh! Be careful you don't get hurt, huh?'

'Be careful you don't _break it_ like you always do... right, Saruhiko?'

 _Shut up._

The little mocking voice grew silent - it was just in his head, after all - but that didn't really fix anything. Fushimi kept his eyes closed, arms crossed over his stomach as if he could still the sick feeling churning around in its core. He could still feel the warmth and the softness of Misaki's lips under his, and the feelings that seemed to rush over his body in response to the memory were overwhelming. It wasn't like he could deny what that meant, not now.

He'd kissed Misaki. Not out of drunken curiousity, but in answer to a real desire.

 _I want him..._ Fushimi curled up further, the nausea rising up as the thought sunk in, stark and undeniable. Misaki's smiles and Misaki's cooking and Misaki's fierce expressions... Misaki, blinding and brilliant in the sunlight... Misaki, drenched and laughing in the water... Misaki, dull but glowing in the moonlight... Misaki. Misaki.

 _Misaki..._

Misaki, surrounded by his friends and his hero... Misaki, who gave out his affection so cheaply, whose moods changed so quickly...

It was dangerous and maddening, a virus eating away at his soul. How had this happened? How had he _let_ it happen? Misaki wasn't _special_ , no matter what it seemed like now. He could leave at any time. If Fushimi wasn't in his life, it wouldn't change substantially. There was nothing tying them together.

That was the truth about bonds - they were only good as long as they were convenient.

Even if Misaki reciprocated, this wasn't a path to happiness. This wouldn't lead to anything but more of what he was already used to. And hadn't he promised himself from the start that he'd never leave an opening for that sort of thing?

 _Stupid._ The inner voice was cynical and harsh again. It was comforting, in a way. Fushimi breathed in, uncomfortably aware of Misaki in the bunk below him, though he'd stopped shifting a while back. _There's no way anything good will come from this._

It was a mistake, plain and simple.

Sleep was a long time coming with those thoughts still worming their way back to the forefront of his conscious mind. Fushimi didn't sleep well under ordinary circumstances. In this case, it was more accurate to say that he'd dozed off several times for unspecified periods and finally stirred into full wakefulness when there was light streaming in through the window.

The room was still and silent.

 _Is he sleeping?_ Fushimi reached for his glasses reflectively. It was just past eight, according to the display on his cell phone, so the odds were fairly good. He risked leaning over the side of the bed, peering into the bottom bunk.

Empty.

That was a little unusual, considering classes weren't in... Somehow, the suspicious deviation was making him feel uneasy; Fushimi pushed aside the covers, unplugging his phone and bringing it down the ladder with him. If he avoided the dorms as much as possible, he wouldn't have to deal with Misaki at all, so it was better to get dressed, pack up his laptop, and leave right now.

He'd grabbed a fresh set of clothing and was heading for the door when it swung open and Misaki stepped into the room, a bowl of food in one hand and another tucked between that and his chest. He stopped short when he caught sight of Fushimi, eyes widening. "Sa-Saruhiko! You're awake?"

 _You had to come back now?_ Fushimi clicked his tongue, looking away quickly. "Obviously," he muttered, sourly.

The atmosphere already felt stifled between them, and they hadn't even properly spoken. A sharp ache started to build at Fushimi's temples. _Annoying..._

Misaki was annoying, just like everyone else... That was the truth, in the end.

"R-Right, yeah." He wasn't even getting mad; Fushimi could catch his motions as he shifted the bowl against his chest to his newly freed hand, letting the door shut behind him. "Anyway, this is good timing - I made breakfast. Here."

Fushimi shifted his gaze to the bowl being held out to him, but made no move to take it. "I'm going out to eat."

 _I don't need you to give me anything anymore._

Misaki seemed taken aback by that; he froze for a moment, then slowly pulled back the bowl. "O-Oh. Okay, then..."

The disappointment that was clear in his tone felt like it cut into Fushimi's chest, somehow. He clicked his tongue again, frustrated with himself. "Get out of the way."

"R-Right, but - " Misaki hastily set the bowls down on the floor, reaching up to grab his arm as he tried to move past. "Wait, Saruhiko!"

Fushimi was startled enough by the outburst to look over; Misaki's eyes were burning with a kind of halfway-embarrassed determination, and his cheeks were flushed. "I-I need to talk to you about something," he went on, voice low and serious. "It - It'll just take a minute."

 _No good._ That sick feeling was rising again in his stomach, along with an edge of panic scrambling at the back of his head. That look already had his heart racing - there was no way this could be anything good. "I need to go," he mumbled, turning away from that face and attempting to twist his arm free.

Misaki held on stubbornly. "Look, this is important, okay? Just one minute, seriously!"

It felt like there was bile rising at the back of his throat; Fushimi narrowed his eyes and kept his gaze fixed away from Misaki's face, allowing his lips to turn down in a scowl. "Don't bother," he muttered.

"Huh? What's that mean?" Misaki didn't even wait for him to respond, already trying to push out whatever words were on his mind as quickly as possible. "If it's about that... k-kiss, then you don't need to worry! I'm not going to say anything bad!" His voice softened up again, picking up just a touch of nervousness. "A-Actually, the truth is - "

"Shut up," Fushimi cut him off, low and sharp. He hadn't consciously thought to say it, but the conversation was already headed in a dangerous direction, and every instinct was screaming at him to do something - anything - to stop it. "Shut up, Misaki."

There was a sharp intake of breath. "H-Hah?" Then an audible swallow. "I told you, it's nothing bad! The truth is - "

"Stop it." His chest felt like it was going to burst, his heart was pounding so hard.

"The truth is, I like you!" Misaki blurted, almost desperately, his fingers tightening against Fushimi's forearm. They felt impossibly hot, like iron clamped against his skin. "I-I like you, okay?" he repeated, softer but just as fervent. "S-So..."

 _Shut up. Shut up! SHUT UP!_ It was difficult to breathe. Misaki's confession seemed to have sucked all of the oxygen from the room; no matter how much he struggled to pull some in, he couldn't seem to get much.

"C-Can you just... you know... just look at me for a second?" There was an undertone of self-conscious anxiety in that gruff mutter. "Sa-Saruhiko, I - "

"What do you want me to say?" Somehow, despite the fact that the words were torn out of his chest in desperation, his tone managed to be properly drawn-out and condescending. Fushimi felt a burst of confidence - something inside of him froze, and he was abruptly in control. He raised his gaze slowly, taking in Misaki's startled expression - eyes widened and cheeks still red from the awkward admission. "Should I be happy? Were you hoping I was going to react positively to your clumsy little confession, Misaki?"

Something twisted in his chest as he watched Misaki flinch back, the grip on his arm loosening with the sudden uncertainty he'd inflicted. He wasn't sure if it was painful or satisfying - or a mix of the two. "Huh? I..."

"What? You thought because we spent some time together, suddenly we should date?" It was easier to let the scornful words slide off his tongue; he didn't feel small, uncertain, or scared. Nothing had the power to crush him with unfamiliar feelings or helpless dependency if he was watching the hope die in Misaki's eyes. Even the corresponding hurt in his own chest felt right - self-inflicted, within his own control. "Are you that desperate to lose your virginity? Or did you actually go and fall for me, like the idiot you are?"

Misaki's expression contorted; he visibly recoiled, as if struck. "B-But..." His throat bobbed noticeably as he swallowed. "You - You kissed - "

"Ah~h, that?" There was adrenaline coursing through his veins; Fushimi wasn't sure if he could've stopped the smirk that snaked its way onto his face, wild and triumphant. "I thought I'd try it again, to see if it was as _disgusting_ as the last time." He let out an almost breathless little giggle. "Don't tell me you thought it was _serious_..."

At that close distance it was possible to see Misaki's eyes start to waver; his eyebrows came down in a glare, gaze so full of fury and hurt and helpless betrayal that it nearly took Fushimi's breath away. Blinding, the way Misaki always was - like it had been at the beginning. It was stunning, painful and beautiful and _wild_ , like nothing else. " _Saru_ ," he growled, and even with the anger in his tone the hint of a choke was there at the edges. "You bastard..."

The reaction had him laughing again, with an edge of hysteria that he couldn't even bring himself to care about. "What, surprised? I thought you'd know me better by now, Misaki? Didn't you say you _liked_ me?" He leaned in closer, basking in that fiery stare. "Don't you want to know what I thought of that _kiss_ you were so excited about?"

"Shut up," Misaki growled again, and his eyes really were shining now, angry tears blurring his furious glare. His fingers tightened again on Fushimi's arm, to the point of pain.

It was deeply gratifying, getting back a piece of the hurt he'd managed to inflict. "It was just like the last time, you know," he drawled, ignoring the response. " _Disgusting_." The smirk on his face widened as he watched Misaki's expression contort again, torn between hurt and anger. "Just like you, Misaki."

"Fuck you," Misaki responded, low and fervent at first, and then he jerked his hand back from Fushimi's arm and reached up to grab the collar of his shirt again, yanking his head down to stare at him with anguished, helpless fury. "Fuck you, Saru! How could you - how - ?"

Something inside Fushimi seemed to break just as Misaki's voice did, firmly and painfully. He ignored it. "'How'? Are you really that stupid? Don't tell me you thought we were _friends_ or something, too..."

Abruptly, Misaki shoved him back, turning his face away and down, so that his expression was shadowed. "I fucking hate you!" he snarled, and swung around to snatch up his skateboard beside the door. "Drop dead, you fucking asshole!"

"Good," Fushimi responded slowly, but the sound of it was lost in the slamming of the door after his roommate, harsh and loud and somehow final-sounding. He shut his eyes, breathing deeply in the aftermath of the explosion. The scent of the abandoned breakfast still lingered, rising up from the forgotten bowls on the floor, but the air didn't seem so thick now. "That's good... Hate me, Misaki..."

The rush of bitterness that sank into his bones as he turned to lean back against the wall was incredibly nostalgic. Fushimi laughed, low and hysterical, and pressed his fingers over the spot where Misaki had grabbed his arm, uncertain if the emotions flooding his body were hurtful or happy.

It wasn't like it mattered, either way.

* * *

The trip through the dorm to the outside was mostly an angry blur, but the moment when Yata threw his skateboard onto the ground and hopped on, already moving before he started to propel himself forward with his other foot, stuck out as being perfectly clear. He picked up speed rapidly, no clear destination in mind, other than _away_.

His vision was blurring up suspiciously, even after he swabbed one arm furiously across his eyes, and there was a painful lump lodged in his throat. His chest hurt, his heart pounding relentlessly against it, and he wanted to scream.

"What the _fuck_!?" he yelled instead, ignoring the stares of whoever he happened to pass and just focussing on keeping up his motions. Moving helped. The hurt and the rage inside him didn't ease, but it stilled his restlessness some when he felt the air whipping around him and his muscles being worked. _Why, why, why - fucking SERIOUSLY, just WHY?_

He didn't understand. The Saruhiko who had stood there and smiled at him with crazed eyes and a deliberately cruel voice felt so outside of the reality he was used to that it was like a dream. A nightmare. Something really fucked up. _What the fuck? What's his problem? He didn't have to... to..._

 _"Disgusting."_

"Shut up!" It didn't matter if he was being loud - hell, it was hard to care about anything, right then. Yata maneuvered his board along the path that circled around behind the buildings in the main university grounds, clenching his teeth against another wave of helpless fury and grief.

 _I don't get it. I really don't get it at all!_ Saruhiko had spent all those hours with him, talked with him, pointlessly hung out - and then fucking _kissed_ him, making Yata realize his own feelings... and now this. What the fuck even _was_ this? It didn't make any sense! _You're lying, right? It's a lie! We were definitely close, there's no way... no way..._

His head was hurting now, too, trying to sort it out. Yata swabbed at his eyes again, furious with himself. _You fucking bastard! Asshole! Goddamnit..._ "I hate you," he muttered, almost inaudible even to his own ears with the rush of the wind in them, and knew it was a lie even as he did. Which only made his throat clench more, and his eyes water, and his heart burn with rage and pain.

" _Fuck you, Saru_!"

* * *

He wasn't sure how long it was before he rolled up to the entrance of the Homra bar, but the sun was high in the sky, he was sweaty and gross, and his legs were aching. His eyes were dry by then, though, and with all the aches in his muscles, any lingering inner pain felt like a dull, distant throb.

 _I'm not wasting any more fucking time on that asshole._ Yata grit his teeth against another wave of emotion at the reminder, and reached for the door. "Yo," he called out in half-hearted greeting, barely registering the familiar rush of hot air that hit him as he stepped inside.

"Yo, Yata-san!" Kamamoto responded, half-turning in his seat at the bar. "How did it go last night?"

He _really_ didn't want to think about that now. Yata let out an aggravated breath and crossed the room to sit down next to his friend, leaning his skateboard against the bar counter and slouching forward in his seat. "Can I get some water or something?"

Kusanagi raised his eyebrows, but obligingly reached for a glass. "You look like you've been pushing yourself," he commented, starting up the tap. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, fine." He reached for the glass as it was slid across the bar towards him, leaning back in his seat to take a huge gulp. The cool water felt nice against his parched throat; by the time he set the glass back down, half of it was gone. "Thanks."

"Yata-san..." Kamamoto was eyeing him with some concern now. "You don't seem like yourself today. What happened?"

He squeezed his fingers around the glass, keeping his gaze turned down as he muttered, "Nothing happened."

There was a moment of awkward silence.

"'Nothing', he says..." Bandou was obviously making an attempt to speak quietly but his voice carried. "Yeah, right..."

"Shh!" Akagi tossed an anxious look in Yata's direction.

"Let him sulk," Eric mumbled, and met Yata's gaze challengingly when he looked up. "Chihuahua."

He bristled, halfway turning with his free hand already clenching into a fist, but was interrupted by a light tug on his shirt. Anna was gazing at him with large, almost sad eyes. "Misaki," she said, voice small, "why are you hurting?"

It was the anxious look on her face that brought him up short. Looking around the bar, he could see all of his friends watching, without bothering to try and hide it. _Even Mikoto-san..._ It brought a lump to his throat again. Above all else, here were people who cared about him. Yata swallowed, and tried to keep his voice even through the emotion. "I..." It came out shaky; he tried again, dropping his gaze back to the glass again. "I was rejected."

There was a moment of silence following the quiet announcement.

Yata couldn't stand it, honestly. He gripped the glass hard again, and tried a brief 'heh', still studying the outline of it against the table. "Stupid, right?" He hunched his shoulders, not waiting for a response. "I mean, it's not like it was even a good idea to start with; he's kind of an asshole, and also another guy - "

" _How?_ " Chitose interrupted him; when he glanced up, startled, his friend was staring at him incredulously. "It's that guy from the beach, right? With the glasses?" He didn't pause for confirmation. "There's no way someone could look at another person that way and _not_ want to fuck them! Are you kidding me?"

Yata blinked at him, caught off guard. "H-Hah...?"

"Ah, well..." Akagi shrugged, looking a bit awkward about it. "Maybe there's another explanation..."

"Look, I'm telling you, I _know_ these things." Chitose crossed his arms over his chest, looking unusually peeved. "I'm an expert at body language, okay? There's no way I'm wrong about this - that look means 'I want you', I don't care what you say."

"An 'expert', huh?" Dewa shot him a wry look.

"You know what I mean!"

"I noticed it, too," Fujishima commented quietly.

No one seemed to have a counter-argument for that one.

Yata could feel his heart beating hard in his chest again. _What the hell?_ He could still hear Saruhiko's words from earlier ringing around in his head - _"Disgusting.", "Are you really that stupid?"_ \- and his own desperate belief: _You're a liar, right? It's a lie._ But it still didn't make sense. "What kind of asshole tells the person they like that they're disgusting?"

Chitose looked momentarily taken aback - and then his expression shifted into flat disbelief. He slapped a hand to his face, letting it slide down slowly. "Are you fucking serious?"

"Huh? That's - thats... what he said, though..." The reminder was enough to lower his spirits further.

"Grade-schooler," Eric muttered.

Yata scowled at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Eric shrugged, not meeting his gaze.

"He's not wrong," Dewa murmured.

"Okay. Yata!" Chitose took the opportunity to stroll across the room, looping an arm around his neck. "Let me do you a favor, here - I've got some contacts in a few different places, you know? Give me an hour, and I could _totally_ score you a blind date for tomorrow." He hesitated for a second, then added, "Probably with a guy, though, huh? You still can't handle girls, can you?"

"Hah?" Yata stared at him incredulously. _A blind date? What the fuck?_ "Why the hell would I want to do that?"

"You want to get over this guy, don't you?" Somehow, the smile that came with that didn't seem trustworthy at all. "Time to expand your horizons! Get back in the game! Live a little. Right?"

He didn't even have to stop and think. Yata shrugged off the arm, scowling. "No way in hell!"

"Oh, well... your choice." Chitose didn't seem bothered; he leaned back, shrugging. "Offer still stands if you change your mind, though."

"I'm not going to change my fucking mind, okay?" He wasn't even sure if he could handle seeing someone else right then, anyway - the cuts from his unexpected scuffle with Saruhiko were still smarting. Yata let out an agitated sigh, trying to push it out of his head. "Anyway, I'm fine - there's no way I'm letting that asshole get to me!"

There was another moment of dubious silence - which was abruptly broken by a loud, protesting noise from his mid-region.

 _Right... food..._ Yata covered his stomach with his hand, darting an embarrassed glance around at the others in the bar. Breakfast was probably still sitting on the floor in their dorm.

The breakfast he'd made for the two of them...

 _Damnit! Just don't think about it!_

"Did you have lunch, Yata-chan?" Kusanagi asked, cutting into that thought.

"Ah... actually..." He hunched his shoulders and managed a small, sheepish grin in return. "I haven't eaten today yet..."

Kusanagi blinked, looking surprised at that. Before he could respond, though, a hand clamped down on top of Yata's head. When he tried to turn his eyes to look, his skin prickled up. "M-Mikoto-san...?"

His instructor fixed him with an even stare. "Eat," he said, seriously.

Something about that gaze seemed understanding. Yata was reminded of what he'd accidently witnessed at the beach, and felt his cheeks grow hot. _Maybe... something like this happened to him once, too?_ He'd never really talked with Mikoto on a personal level at all. "Th-Thanks," he managed, after a second or two of hesitation, feeling a little overwhelmed.

That kind of conversation would probably have to wait for later, anyway.

"Yeah." Mikoto's hand slid from his hair; he turned to walk, unhurried, towards the couch.

Anna, who'd been standing beside him, immediately moved to follow, plunking herself down primly.

"Well, there you have it." Kusanagi shrugged, an amused sort of smile on his face when Yata turned back to him again. "Now... what'll it be?"

* * *

By the time he was stepping off the elevator to his floor on the dorm, it was already dark out. Yata scowled at the wall as the doors slid closed behind him, standing still for a moment with his skateboard under his arm.

Despite all the help he'd gotten from his friends trying to distract him, he'd still picked up an uneasy feeling at the pit of his stomach after he'd left the bar, which had grown as he approached the dorms and was now festering into almost full-blown queasiness. Without the others around, and standing just a few feet from where the incident had happened that morning, now all he could think of was Saruhiko's face, twisted into a cruel smirk while he mocked the confession Yata had put his all into making.

 _I should never have fallen for someone like that in the first place!_ Yata grimaced, trying to ignore the resounding hurt that rose up with the thought. Even now, after something like that happened, he couldn't forget Saruhiko's careful smiles... the cautious expectant looks he'd thrown when Yata tried the game... that intense stare that seemed to pierce right through to his core...

The feel of lips on his, and realizing Saruhiko had kissed him...

 _Stop._ The hurt had grown to a full-on ache; it felt like his heart was bruised, as stupid as that sounded. Anyway, he couldn't exactly think of all that now - it was going to be hard enough going back into that room already. Yata didn't have much hope that he'd find his roommate in bed for the second time in a row.

He could've stayed with a friend, but... _Fuck it, this is my room, too._ There were two more semesters to get through before the year ended and he could apply for a room change without a penalty. He wasn't just going to hide out in someone else's room like a coward.

Still...

 _Shit..._ Yata made a soft 'ch', balled his free hand into a fist, and marched towards his room. He hesitated again briefly in front of the door, seeing the light still spilling out from beneath it, but took in a sharp breath and firmly unlocked it, swinging it open.

Saruhiko was at his desk hunched over his laptop; when the door opened he looked up sharply, and for a moment as their eyes met, Yata thought he saw something like panic in that startled gaze. His breath caught in his throat; he stood there dumbly, barely noticing as the door slid shut on its own behind him.

 _Saru...?_

Then Saruhiko seemed to collect himself, shutting his eyes and letting a little smirk form on his lips. "What, you seriously came back? Are you that much of a glutton for punishment, Misaki?"

The moment of hope died. Yata could feel his fingers starting to tremble, and clenched his teeth together. _Idiot! Of course nothing's changed!_ "Don't call me by that name!"

"Oh? You didn't seem to mind it before." Saruhiko opened his eyes slowly, gazing back with a certain smug arrogance. "But then, that was when you thought I might return your precious feelings, wasn't it, _Misaki_?"

"I said shut up with that name! It's creepy as hell now!" He furious swung his skateboard around to lean it against the wall. "Anyway, why are you even talking to me?" It still felt painful even to think, but he gritted the words out. "You hate me, right? Leave me alone!"

Saruhiko clicked his tongue, expression shifting to something almost like irritation. "You're the one who came back here after that," he muttered, almost under his breath.

"Hah? I fucking live here, you asshole!" Yata crossed his arms over his chest, scowling back stubbornly. "All my shit is here, and my bed is here - you think I'm just going to let you have the whole place to yourself because you're being a dick? Think again!"

"Do what you want." Saruhiko raised his eyebrows, the corners of his mouth turning up again. "It doesn't bother _me_. You're the one who has to look at the face of the person you confessed to. Every. Single. Day." He pronounced the words clearly and concisely, with pauses in between for emphasis. "I wonder who's the unlucky one in this situation, hm, Misaki?"

That was a painful bullseye. Yata wrenched his gaze away, angry at himself for being affected, and made a sharp 'ch' under his breath. "Whatever. I'm going to bed." He kicked his shoes off and turned to head for the bottom bunk.

"Mm, well then..." He could still feel Saruhiko's sharp eyes on his back as he climbed into the bed and rolled onto his side to face the wall. "Don't let me interrupt your beauty rest. Mi~sa~ki~."

He could feel his shoulders tense, and clenched his teeth again so the bitter response didn't slip out. _Fucking bastard..._

It was no good if things were going to stay like this - Yata had to admit it. He couldn't deal with this every night, facing Saruhiko's cruel words and mocking stares while still harboring that stupid little spark of hope in his heart that it was all a lie. It was too damn painful, with them being forced this close to each other.

 _I need to get over him as fast as possible, or this is going to get worse._

Inwardly grimacing, he pulled his phone from his pocket and opened up the contact list to find Chitose.


	11. The Date

**Building Bridges**

 **The Date**

It was difficult to sleep with Misaki still in the room. Fushimi stayed up until he could barely hold his eyes open, hyper aware of the fact that the restless shifting behind him had stilled out into deep breathing, and then switched out the lights, climbed up to the top bunk, and surfed the internet on his phone until he drifted off with his glasses still on.

When he woke up, it was morning, he was still tired, and he had a headache pounding at his temples.

He wasn't going to be able to get back to sleep, though. Fushimi shut his eyes and clicked his tongue, rolling onto his back for a moment before pushing himself into a sitting position and reaching up to straighten the frames. His phone was still in his other hand, plugged into the wall and charging.

The room was quiet, but he could hear the sound of Misaki breathing evenly in the bunk beneath him.

 _I went to bed last, and I'm still up before him._ It was convenient - he'd have the advantage again - but he wasn't sure if the annoyance of a headache was worth it. _I don't think I have any painkillers left from last time, either - I'll have to go out and get some._ He unplugged his phone, and the time flashed up on the screen - just past nine. Not that early, after all.

Given that he probably hadn't slept until just a few hours ago, it might as well have been, though. Fushimi clicked his tongue again, and swiped a finger across his phone reflexively to unlock it.

When the lock screen cleared, he froze up, skin prickling.

There was a video open on his phone - a familiar video; one he'd watched a number of times in secret since taking it. He didn't remember opening it the night before - and he definitely wouldn't have done so consciously - but it was paused right at the right moment. The moment he always paused it on; always stopped to look at. The moment that had made his blood pound and his stomach flutter, before he'd realized what that meant.

Yata Misaki's smiling face, with the sun beaming down on him and unconcealed fondness in his eyes as he stared back at some point just above the camera.

Fushimi closed his eyes, fingers tightening around the casing on his phone. His heart was racing and something seemed to clench in his chest, painfully. _Misaki..._ He could feel a shudder run through his whole body, bringing a rush of longing and fear with it, and for a moment, he had to struggle to breathe properly.

 _I should delete it._ The thought was in his head, desperate and decisive, before the wave had even passed. Fushimi opened his eyes and stared at the image on his phone for a long moment, feeling his fingers tremble against the case, until the screen timed out and locked.

His head was still throbbing.

He wasn't entirely sure what drove him to climb out of bed, down the ladder with his phone still clutched in his hand, and then snatch up his clothes and quickly leave the room. He didn't particularly have a destination planned, but after he was dressed and clean, he stopped back at the room just long enough to leave his sleep wear behind, and then left.

It was only after he was about halfway to Munakata's office that Fushimi consciously took note of where he'd been heading all along.

 _Stupid._ He didn't slow his pace, but the realization had him clicking his tongue, irritated. _Why would he even be there during summer break?_

It was definitely stupid, but for some reason he felt too restless and agitated to turn back. _Once I've seen that he's not there, I'll just leave._ He didn't have to go back to the dorm. He could go to the activity center and buy some energy bars and a coffee, and find some place quiet and isolated.

At some point, he was sure, his headache would clear and the unsettled feeling in his chest and stomach would let up.

When he got to Munakata's office, though, the door was open. Fushimi hesitated for just a brief second outside of it, and then clicked his tongue softly and pushed through.

His boss was bent over his desk, which had been cleared to make room for a fairly large puzzle that appeared to be taking up most of it. He looked up when the door opened, and blinked, actually appearing to be startled - one of the very few times Fushimi had seen the expression on his face. "Fushimi-kun." He seemed to recover gracefully enough, setting down the puzzle piece and straightening in his seat, resting his hands in his lap. "This is a surprise."

So he wasn't going to question what his TA was doing there in the middle of summer vacation... Fushimi frowned to himself, a little irritated. _I really hate that about you._ "Do you come here during your vacations just to slack off?"

"Oh - the puzzle, you mean?" Munakata smiled, seeming pleased that he'd asked. "I find it far more stimulating to conduct such activities in a professional environment. Something about the atmosphere helps the mind to circulate." He tilted his head, and the light in the room seemed to gleam off of his glasses. "If you ever wish to join me..."

"No thanks." Fushimi pushed his own glasses up on his face reflexively. Somehow, now that he was actually here and hadn't been asked for any explanation, his head seemed to be clearing. Despite the fact that he'd walked all the way there with no actual purpose in mind, there was something nagging at the back of his mind... "You're dating Suoh Mikoto, huh?"

The expression on Munakata's face at that was more of a mild surprise than shock. It cleared into a smile in short order, regardless. "I see. You spotted us on Sunday night, then."

It was uncanny how easy he made that look. Fushimi clicked his tongue. "You could've made a better effort to hide if you didn't want to be seen."

"Very true. I suppose the cat is out of the bag, then - such as it were." Munakata pushed his chair back, coming to his feet and crossing the room so that they were facing each other more openly. "It's something of an open secret among those in our social circles." He looked faintly amused. "Awashima-kun has indirectly lectured me on the subject a number of times, but I believe you are the first to bring it up directly."

That was a dubious honor. "Why do you bother to hide it if everyone knows?"

Munakata tipped his head forward, shutting his eyes briefly. It was a surprisingly unguarded look. "Call it an idiosyncratic indulgence."

It was obvious that there was more to it than that - and equally obvious that it wasn't going to be a story he was likely to get. Somehow, that was actually comforting, though - that a man like Munakata could still have the same kinds of petty problems as those he manipulated freely. "Seems like a mistake to get involved with someone like that man."

"It's possible," his boss acknowledged, without shame or regret. "There's a certain element of risk involved in the pursuit of happiness, after all."

That word again. Fushimi clicked his tongue. "Not everyone's chasing after whatever you call 'happiness'."

"Perhaps that's not the best word," Munakata admitted, without seeming to miss a beat. He half-turned, looking towards the puzzle again. "Call it 'satisfaction'. Something that everyone in this world seeks to find and keep: the feeling that the life you lead is as good - or as tolerable - as you feel you can make it." His gaze was speculative when he turned it back on Fushimi. "I think it's safe to say that the level and type of risks one finds acceptable in their pursuit are decisions that are influenced by many outside factors."

The memory of that mocking voice in his head - still as clear and familiar as ever, even after all the years of not hearing it physically - rose back to the surface of Fushimi's mind without his conscious will; he shoved it back down, ruthlessly. "What would the risk of not pursuing something like that be?"

"In my opinion?" Munakata turned fully again to face him. "I would think the risk would be that failing to pursue it means you lose what could have been an opportunity to have it." He paused briefly, then added, "Assuming, of course, that 'it' is something you wanted."

The words resonated with something within him. Fushimi turned his gaze, vaguely disturbed by his own reaction. "That doesn't exactly balance against the risks of pursuing it, does it?" _If you couldn't reach it. If you got it, and then it broke. If one day he just left..._

"Quite possibly not," his boss agreed, somewhat surprisingly. "The balance is made up for in potential gain." When Fushimi looked up, warily, he got a beatific smile. "How much you could gain in success, versus how much you gain in refusing to try."

Fushimi clicked his tongue again. "Isn't a cost-benefit analysis too simple for human relationships?"

"The simple ideas frequently contain the most merit, I've found." Munakata reached out to set a hand on his shoulder, bending forward a ways as if he was about to relay some great secret. "Fushimi-kun. If you can afford to make a personal decision purely based on how much you want it versus how much you fear you'll lose it, my recommendation would be to find the choice that would leave you with the least regrets."

For a moment, he just stared back, a little unnerved by the intimate gaze and the serious tone. Then he collected himself and jerked his eyes away again, scowling. "I didn't ask you for advice. Anyway, isn't that too generic?"

"Perhaps you're right." The hand on his shoulder slid free; Munakata straightened, once again smiling as if he didn't have a concern in the world. "I thought it might give you some food for thought, considering the subject manner. However, if you're free at the moment..." He tilted his head, smile widening, and the light seemed to catch on his glasses again. "Would you consider staying to play out a game of chess?"

The answer to that was swift, and decisive. "No thanks."

"Ah. Pity." Munakata looked thoughtful. "Then, perhaps cards..."

Fushimi turned to the door without any further hesitation. "Sorry, I have a headache."

"I have some painkillers in my drawer if you wish to - "

"Goodbye."

* * *

In the end, he stopped by the Activity Center for more painkillers and water. The coffee shop in the building had a line-up and too much of a crowd for Fushimi to want to bother trying for a decent drink, so he bought something from a vending machine instead. He stopped by the computer labs afterwards, disregarding the rules about drinks near the machines - it wasn't like anyone was properly watching for it anyway, considering how few people were in there - in an attempt to kill some time in case Misaki hadn't already left the dorm.

 _Why am I the one avoiding him?_ Fushimi frowned to himself, staring at the computer screen without really paying it much attention. He'd properly rejected Misaki's confession, and now he had Misaki's hatred, which was exactly what he wanted. It had been fine before - even the edge of bitterness was comfortable. Familiar.

For whatever reason, finding the video open on his phone and then having that conversation with Munakata had left him feeling uneasy.

 _It's fine._ The time showing on the computer was half past noon - it was probably safe to head back, so Fushimi twisted the cap onto his water bottle and pushed back his chair to leave. _I'll get used to it again. It's only like this now because I haven't adjusted yet._

Misaki wasn't a friend. He wasn't a lover. But he would still think of Fushimi forever. Hating him, forever.

 _That's good._ Fushimi adjusted his phone in his pocket without checking it - there wasn't going to be anything new on there, anyway. _That's the way it should be._

It wouldn't have lasted, otherwise. Misaki had friends, and he had _Mikoto-san_. It wouldn't have taken him long to realize he didn't really need Fushimi.

 _He didn't realize that after a full semester of living with you,_ a little voice whispered at the back of his head. Fushimi pushed the unwanted thought aside, clicking his tongue as he walked back towards the dorms. It didn't matter. Everything broke for him. It was always just a matter of time, in the end.

Better to be alone by choice than to be discarded.

With the help of the painkillers, the headache had been under control while he was in the lab - but it didn't fare quite as well in the sun. Fushimi was tired and cranky when he finally made it back to the dorms, and by the time he was turning his key in the lock to his room, he already had some half-formed plans of starting up a new project on his laptop to distract himself.

That all vanished when he opened the door and found his roommate standing in front of an open closet, with a short-sleeved black overshirt in his hands and a frown on his face as he studied it.

 _He's still here..._

Misaki looked up quickly when Fushimi walked in, and the frown deepened into an all-out scowl. "Why are you back already?"

"I shouldn't need to explain my schedule to you," Fushimi answered, deliberately making his voice airy and condescending. He stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him and trying to pretend that his heart rate hadn't jumped up to approximately five times its speed. "I can come and go whenever I feel like it."

Misaki had dressed differently than he normally did, so much that it was openly noticeable. He had on quarter-length pants instead of the usual shorts, his shirt had a proper collar, and he wasn't wearing his beanie. The overshirt, too, looked fancier than expected.

Clearly, something was going on.

Misaki made an irritated-sounding 'ch'. "I know that! Anyway, it doesn't matter. I have a date, so whatever - you can stay in here forever for all I care." He pulled on the overshirt, straightening the collar as he headed for the door.

It felt like something froze inside of Fushimi, quickly enough to leave a trail of hurt in its wake. Misaki, going on a date... _Impossible._ "As if a virgin like you could ever ask a girl on a date." There was the edge of a tremor in his voice; he swallowed, and made the effort to properly collect himself. "I'll believe it when I see it, Mi~sa~ki~."

He earned himself a glare and a scowl with that. "I-It's not a girl, and we're just going for coffee, so - so whatever!" The faint edge of a blush had risen on Misaki's cheeks. "Anyway, it's none of your business!" he snapped, and turned again, already yanking the door open. "I'm leaving!"

The slamming that followed his exit had an echo of finality to it somehow.

The water bottle in Fushimi's hand slipped and fell to the floor; he realized then that his fingers were trembling. _What is this?_ It was as if something white-hot was burning across his brain, painfully unthawing the frozen pieces and leaving him shaking with a sudden mix of shock and dismay and rage. He didn't know what to do with that level of emotion; it wasn't familiar or maintainable.

Misaki, on a date... _Who? Who would he go on a date with?_

Misaki, on a date... _Why? He confessed to me just yesterday, right? There's no way..._

Misaki, on a date... _How? He's an idiot! And a virgin... And besides that..._

Besides that...

 _No one else..._ Fushimi found his fingers clenching into fists that still shook, tightly clenched and painful. _For Misaki..._ His throat had closed up; even when he swallowed, it didn't seem to clear. _The only one who should want him..._ His heart was pounding painfully against his chest, and his breath was coming in harsh, ragged pulls. _The only one he should want..._

Somehow or another, he was moving, across the room and to the door, barely conscious of the throbbing pain at his temples and the tremor still fighting its way up his arms and across his shoulder blades. He wasn't sure if it was desperation or something deeper and more hurtful. But there was one thought in his head blotting out everything else.

 _It should only be me!_

* * *

The short trip from the dorms to the Activity Center wasn't quite enough to cool Yata's head. He pushed his skateboard up with one foot, bending to lift it off the ground, and scowled at the front entrance, willing his heart to slow down out of the frenzy he'd worked it into.

At this point, he wasn't sure if he was more nervous for his first real _date_ or flustered from the unexpected confrontation with Saruhiko.

He hadn't seemed to get much reaction when he'd mentioned the date...

Not that he'd expected... Well, okay, maybe he'd kind of been expecting _something_. It was a little disappointing, even though he hated to admit it. Despite everything, he'd thought... or rather, _hoped_...

Well, it hadn't happened, anyway.

 _Whatever! I shouldn't think about that asshole!_ This was his chance, right? Yata clenched his free hand into a fist, tucking the skateboard under his arm. He was - he was on a date. It was with some random guy, yeah - but whatever, whoever this guy was, he had to be at least somewhat cool or Chitose wouldn't have set him up like this. Right?

It felt like that thought just strung his nerves up even more. Yata swallowed hard, and then straightened up, setting his shoulders with determination and marching towards the doors.

The coffee shop was on the first floor of the Activity Center, near the large bookstore that sold a lot of random convenience items. It was a cheery-looking place, with black and white tilted floors, slick grey counters, round tables with delicate white tablecloths, and fancy black chairs that didn't look comfortable.

Yata had never been in there before. Actually, he didn't even drink coffee. Chitose had been the one who planned everything about this date, from the time to the place to the person he was going to be meeting up with.

Speaking of which... Yata glanced around, feeling his stomach twisting up a bit with nervousness as he looked for the person who matched the description he'd been given.

"Excuse me." The deep, serious voice from behind just about had him jumping out of his skin. Yata spun on his heels, nearly dropping his skateboard, and found himself faced with someone about his own age, with pale skin, long dark hair, and very serious light blue eyes. "Yata Misaki?" he asked, tilting his head slightly. His expression was strangely severe.

He was also a good ten inches taller than Yata - pretty much the same height as Saruhiko, now that he thought of it.

 _You couldn't have found someone who wasn't a goddamn giant, huh?_ He mentally cursed Chitose.

Still, this was his date, after all. "Y-Yeah. Right. Um, so then you're - "

"Yatogami Kuroh." The tone of voice was calm and even, despite the abrupt way he dropped his name into the conversation. "Nice to meet you," he continued, without offering a handshake. His eyes dipped in the direction of Yata's skateboard and one dark, slender eyebrow raised. "Are you planning to take that in with you?"

"Eh? My skateboard?" Yata blinked, a little taken aback. This... wasn't exactly how he'd pictured meeting the guy would go. "Yeah, so?"

Yatogami's frown deepened. "If it has wheels, you shouldn't be taking it indoors."

"Hah? Says who?" Somehow, this was kind of pissing him off. Yata fought to keep his temper in check. _It's a date, right? I need to be polite and shit. Or something._ "If I leave it outside, someone might snatch it. It's not a big deal or anything - I'll just stow it under the table."

If anything, the disapproval in Yatogami's expression increased. "Well, there isn't a rule against it," he conceded stiffly, and turned on his heel to head into the coffee shop. "Let's go find a seat, then."

Yata scowled at his back. _Something about this guy really gets on my nerves..._

It looked like the place had been busy just a little while ago, but it was starting to clear up - there were a few open tables to the left of the entrance. Yatogami passed over two that looked perfectly good before settling on one near the far end of the barista's counter, perfunctorily pulling out a chair before Yata could blink and indicating that he should sit on it.

"I can get our drinks," he offered - well, more like stated a fact, in that same serious tone that didn't invite argument. It was really fucking annoying. "What would you like?"

Yata stared at him with open aggravation. "I can pay for my fuc - for myself," he shot back, thoroughly annoyed at the notion that this self-satisfied prick was already setting himself up in some kind of 'gentleman' role. "What the hell do you think this is, some kind of - ?"

"It's easier for the barista if just one person orders," Yatogami cut him off, shooting back an exasperated look. His voice was still as cool and even as ever, but there was a slight edge to it now, as if he was just as irritated as Yata was with the situation. "And you have your skateboard to look after." The downturn to his mouth indicated exactly what he thought of that. "So, I'll ask again: what would you like to drink?"

 _This fucking guy..._ Yata could feel his eyebrow twitch. It was only the memory of Saruhiko's condescending reply - _"I'll believe it when I see it, Mi~sa~ki~"_ \- that kept him from telling his date where he could go stick it. " _Water_ ," he ground out.

The look Yatogami shot him was flat. "You'd come to a coffee shop and just order water?"

Yata glowered back at him. "Got a problem with that?"

"Fine." Yatogami's voice was clipped. "Wait here." He turned sharply and headed for the line.

"Ch!" Yata scowled at his back from another second, then turned back to the table, deliberately pulling out the other chair and slumping down onto it. _Where the fuck did Chitose even find this guy?_ He leaned his skateboard against the underside of the table, slouching against the back of his chair with an aggravated sigh.

Yeah, unless this asshole somehow turned into a completely different person once they were sitting at a table together, this was probably going to be a big fat failure. Yata barely wanted to talk to the guy, never mind any of that romantic crap. But still, he wasn't about to quit early and give Saruhiko the satisfaction of mocking him for screwing up his first date.

 _HE could've been my first date..._

He quickly squashed that thought, scowling down at the table, and tried not to think about it.

There was a kind of prickling sensation between his shoulder blades that was starting to become impossible to ignore - like he was being watched. Yata turned his head to look around the place, but it didn't seem like anyone was paying any attention to him. As soon as he returned his gaze to the table, though, the feeling came back, worse than ever.

 _The fuck...?_ He looked around again, feeling more than a little annoyed. It seemed like the people around them were all in pairs - an obvious lovey-dovey couple there... a pair of girls giggling together here... two guys in fancy-looking suits over there... a couple of weirdos in trench coats, fedoras and fake mustaches over -

 _Wait. What?_

"Here's your water." Yatogami's voice jerked his attention away from the strange pair at the table diagonal from them; Yata straightened in his seat automatically as the glass of water was placed in front of him.

"Thanks." He shot a quick glance back while Yatogami was seating himself. The couple was huddled over the drink menus with a kind of desperate focus, not looking at him.

 _What the fuck is that about?_

"So. Yata Misaki." Yatogami was watching him intently from across the table, his arms crossed over his chest as if he didn't even intend to touch the steaming drink in front of him. "What activities do you do for fun?"

"Hah?" _'Activities'? Am I taking a survey, or what?_ Yata frowned back, a little perturbed. _Okay, whatever._ "Uh, I guess skateboarding, gaming, and hanging out with friends... you know, normal stuff."

"I see."

An awkward silence fell after that last response, and Yata became aware that Yatogami was staring at him expectantly. _Fuck. What does he want? Am I supposed to ask about him? Damnit, how does this bullshit work, anyway?_ "So, uh, yeah." He shifted in his seat, uncomfortably. "What about you?"

"I study fencing in my spare time," Yatogami responded immediately, as if he'd been waiting for the question. "My master was the most celebrated fencer in the area. He was truly wise... Ichigen-sama..." He smiled with obvious satisfaction, nodding to himself. The expression was vaguely disturbing. "Other than that, I like to cook and clean. I prefer order and organization."

 _Is this guy even for real?_ Cleaning for fun? 'Order and organization'? Yata stared at him dubiously for a few seconds, waiting for the punchline. None came. "Yeah, okay." He scratched the back of his head, bothered by both the stilted conversation and the persistent feel of eyes on him. _Who the fuck is that?_ "I guess cooking's all right..."

"You cook?" Yatogami tilted his head, looking a bit interested at that. "Did you receive formal training, or is it a hobby of yours?"

He wasn't too sure how to answer that one. "Right. Uh, my mom taught me."

"I see. A skill being passed down across generations." Yatogami nodded again, clearly satisfied with that answer. "Your mother sounds like a wise woman."

"Yeah..." Yata wondered how his mother would respond to being called 'wise'. Probably by laughing. "Sure."

There was another awkward pause. Yatogami was still sitting with his arms crossed, drink untouched in front of him.

It was hard to deal with. "Hey, I'm gonna just go to the washroom quick, okay?" Yata was already standing before getting a response; it wasn't like it'd matter even if it wasn't okay, after all. "Be right back."

"That's fine."

 _Like I need your permission._ Yata made a soft 'ch' under his breath as he neared the door marked 'men'. He was on edge, agitated by the entire conversation, and he needed space to just fucking _breathe_. Fortunately, the bathroom was empty when he came in - there were only two stalls, both open, and no one was at the urinals. He wandered over to the sink, frowning at his reflection in the mirror over it. The image staring back at him looked frustrated.

 _This is so fucking stupid._ It wasn't like he'd wanted to be on a date with this guy, anyway, even if he'd turned out to be awesome. It hadn't even been a full two days since he'd realized he'd fallen for his roommate, and he wasn't over it at all. Yata shut his eyes, letting out a small sigh, and allowed himself a rueful smile. _The only person I'd actually want to go on a date with hates my guts. How fucking sad is that?_

The reminder still hurt. Yata clenched his hands into fists, swallowing around the sudden lump at the back of his throat. _Saruhiko..._

The door opened behind him, and - as if summoned by his thoughts - his roommate stepped in.

Yata's skin prickled; for one startled second, they just stood there staring at each other in the mirror's reflection.

 _The FUCK?_

* * *

It was possible to actually see the moment when Misaki recovered from his shock; his eyes narrowed, and he immediately spun around, glaring. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Even just being the focus of that angry stare was enough to get Fushimi's heart racing again. He managed a slow smile, still feeling on edge. His head hurt, and he was still too hot even after coming into the temperature-controlled building, but... Misaki's eyes, fierce and alive...

It was enough to set the trembling off again, just slightly.

"What?" he drawled, not minding the unsteady edge in his voice. "Are you worried I'll ruin your precious date, Misaki?"

"Ch! As if you could!" The scowl he got back was properly derisive. "Go ahead and give it your best shot, _Saru_!"

"Should I?" Fushimi drew the words out slowly, watching for a reaction. "It's not like you can't screw it up on your own, right? In that case, maybe I'd be doing your date a favor."

Misaki's glare turned positively furious. "Saru... you bastard..."

 _That's right. Just look at me. Forget everyone else, Misaki._ There was an unusual amount of desperation underlying the thought; Fushimi deliberately ignored it. "What? It's the truth, right? There's no reason to go back to - "

"Shut up!" Misaki snapped, cutting him off. "It's none of your goddamn business! Besides, it - it's going fine." His voice dropped a little as he added the last part; he glanced away, as if embarrassed. "In - In fact, we have some stuff in common. Or something."

Looking at that expression, it felt like something inside of Fushimi snapped. _Misaki..._ He ducked his head forward, a rush of anger and hurt and a feeling like hysteria or desperation bubbling to the surface of his thoughts.

 _Don't look like that for someone else..._

"What, jealous?" There was a note of triumph in Misaki's voice. "That's right, a completely bastard like you couldn't get a date to save his life!" He let out a soft 'heh' and moved forward to pass by and get to the door. "Anyway, that kind of thing is - "

Fushimi reached out quickly, grabbing his arm as he passed. Misaki froze for a moment, and that was long enough to able to turn his body roughly, push him back hard against the wall, and brace his own hands on either side of that shocked-looking face. Fushimi was acting primarily on instinct, his heart thundering against his chest as he stared down at Misaki's wide-eyed expression. A smile was building on his face, slow and wild, born of some small feeling within his body - a frightened, fierce, cornered child that had never been able to let go of the things Fushimi wanted to forget.

 _You should only... only..._

"Only look at me," he murmured out loud, without meaning to. It didn't feel like it mattered.

Misaki was still staring at him, obviously completely confused. His face was slowly turning red; it was kind of fascinating to watch. "Wh-What the hell - ?" he started, drawing himself up with obvious indignation.

"Shut up," Fushimi cut him off, voice low. The edge of hysteria was obvious, but he didn't care. Misaki's reactions, and Misaki's glares, and Misaki's embarrassment... It was all for him. "Shut up," he repeated, and slid his hands down to grasp Misaki's shoulders, leaning in to press their mouths together once again.

Time seemed to slow down as his lips met Misaki's; Fushimi was hyper aware of his roommate's little hitch at the contact - of his own ragged, uneven breathing. The feeling of a soft, unmoving pressure under his mouth; the fabric pressed against his hands as he clutched at Misaki's shoulders. The warmth building in the small space between their bodies.

Deep within him, he felt the screaming rush of his own desire. It was blinding.

 _I want him..._

The door to the bathroom abruptly swung open, and that bubble of a dream burst.

He could hear the sharp intake of breath from the newcomer even as Misaki grabbed his arms and forced him violently away, but it felt like it was all happening somewhere far away. Fushimi didn't even fight to hold his position, allowing himself to be held at arm's distance and observing what was going on around him with something like shocked disinterest.

 _I kissed him..._

"Eh?" The newcomer sounded mildly started - and then he seemed to realize what he'd just witnessed. " _Eh!?_ "

"O-Oi..." Misaki was staring in the direction of the door, his face a vivid mix of nervousness and embarrassment, stained redder than Fushimi had seen it before. "L-Look, right now... th-that wasn't what it loo - "

"Ahaha..." A glance at the newcomer showed a young-looking man in a ridiculous getup: trench coat, fedora, and lopsided false mustache. He was waving his hands in front of his face, a sheepish sort of grin visible underneath the awkwardly-placed accessory. "I didn't mean to interrupt anything... I'll just go right ahead and leave now, then..."

"No - wait - " Misaki's feeble protest came too late; the newcomer spun around and was out the door before he could properly proclaim his innocence. "Fuck..."

Fushimi slid his gaze back slowly towards Misaki's face. The situation still seemed unreal to him. He could feel the headache from before clamoring for his attention, but it was insignificant next to everything that had just happened. He wasn't sure what to do now, or how he could handle it. "Mi... saki...?"

"What the hell, Saru?" The expression on Misaki's face when it turned up towards him again was furious, eyes narrowed and mouth turned down in a scowl. His eyes were gleaming with something like hurt; it sparked against a pain in Fushimi's own chest. "Why the fuck did you do that?"

 _Like I even know..._ Fushimi stared back at him dumbly for a second, and then fell back on his immediate instinct, turning his gaze aside and clicking his tongue.

Everything had happened too fast... It was like that time at the beach, but worse. He didn't know what to do any more.

"Don't just fucking 'tsk' me, you bastard!" Misaki's grip tightened on his arms. "I don't get you! You kissed me, and then you said you don't want me, and you act like a complete asshole - and now you're kissing me again! What the hell sense does that even make?"

It didn't, when he put it like that. Fushimi could feel panic rising like bile at the back of his throat, and focused on staring sullenly at the wall in an effort to keep it down. "Shut up," he muttered, keeping his voice low to hold it steady. "You're annoying."

"Then answer me, goddamnit!" There was a choke in Misaki's voice now; he shook Fushimi's arms fiercely, as if trying to force a response from him physically. "Leave me alone if you hate me so much! I'm trying to get the hell over you, already!"

Fushimi's breath caught; he looked up automatically, and met Misaki's furious, anguished gaze without thinking. It was like a knife twisting at the pit of his stomach; those words seemed to echo in his head.

 _"I'm trying to get the hell over you"_

 _"to get the hell over you"_

 _"over you"_

And then - out of nowhere - his boss's voice, from earlier that morning: _"I would think the risk would be that failing to pursue it means you lose what could have been an opportunity to have it."_

Immediately, he found himself shaking his head, instinctively rejecting the conclusion. "Stupid... there's no way..."

Misaki's expression twisted; he let go of Fushimi's arms and shoved him back roughly. "Yeah. You made that clear already." His face was turned down as he moved for the door, but it was possible to see the way his mouth tightened as he yanked it open. With one last, pained glanced over his shoulder, he was moving past it and out into the coffee shop again.

Fushimi stared after him. The tremor in his limbs felt more pronounced than before - something in his head was screaming, although he wasn't sure if it was in protest or panic or just plain frustration. _Misaki..._

He didn't know what to do. How to fix it. If he even wanted to fix it. All he knew was...

All he knew...

Snapping out of his trance, Fushimi stepped forward and reached for the door.

Outside, he could see Misaki's back as he sank back down into his seat across from some unfamiliar man. Fushimi stared at him for a moment, feeling his eyes narrow and his breathing quicken, and then clicked his tongue and turned away, driven by a mix of fury and helpless pain.

Fury that was aimed mostly inward, although he couldn't quite acknowledge the reasons. It felt like he'd fly apart if he accepted it now.

The walk back to the dorms was painstakingly long, with his head pounding and the sun beating down on him. It was like being whipped. Punished. Somehow, the physical discomfort was satisfying, a safe distraction from the chaotic frenzy in his head.

 _Misaki..._

It wasn't until he'd made it back into the dorm and leaned back against the door to their shared room that he really allowed the truth to strike him, and it felt like something stabbing directly into his heart. Fushimi let out a burst of a laugh that sounded suspiciously close to a sob, and shut his eyes, breathing erratically.

All he knew... was that Misaki letting go of him felt like the end of the world.


	12. Reconciliation

**Building Bridges**

 **Reconciliation**

Yatogami was sipping his drink when Yata returned to the table; he looked up when the chair was pulled out, and raised an eyebrow, lowering the mug. "Is something wrong?"

"It's nothing." He _really_ didn't feel like getting into it with a total stranger. Yata let out an aggravated sigh, picking up his water and taking a long drink.

His heart felt sore, just thinking about what happened in there. _Damnit, what the hell is his problem, anyway?_ He really didn't get it - none of Saruhiko's actions made sense. Even if he wracked his brain trying to think why his roommate would've stalked him on his date and then kissed him - after rejecting him, and not to mention mocking his confession - he couldn't figure it out.

It didn't help that his brain kept going back to the moment when Saruhiko's lips had pressed onto his - the way his heart had instinctively jumped, and he'd been momentarily paralyzed with a mix of shock and want. He should've pushed that bastard away sooner, but damnit, he just had to hesitate for that one second...

 _Can't be helped, though, right?_ Yata set down his water glass, frowning at it for a moment. He wasn't over it. Not by a fucking mile.

 _"On a broken path  
As night obstructs the vision  
A gentle foot treads."_

The tinny-sounding voice snapped him out of that trance; Yata glanced up, startled, and noticed the phone being held out on the table in his date's hand. "Hah?" His eyebrows knotted on his forehead. "The hell...?"

"As it says." Yatogami was studying him with serious eyes, unsmiling. "Don't be too reckless if your way is unclear." He pulled the phone back towards him, straightening. "There are many situations where a gentle touch would be more effective than a fist, Yata Misaki."

 _Like I wanted a fucking lecture._ Yata frowned, staring at the phone dubiously. "What the hell was that?"

"My late master, Ichigen-sama, wrote haiku in his spare time." Yatogami pulled the phone back a ways, smiling at it with an odd, fond little smile. "Whenever I feel conflicted or uncertain, I can count on his wisdom to bring me back to myself." When he looked up again, his eyes were oddly bright. "What do you think? Amazing, right?"

Yata looked from his face to the phone and back again. _Are you kidding me?_ "That's creepy..."

"C-Creep...?" Yatogami looked shocked - and then outraged. "How dare you insult Ichigen-sama!"

The knot of irritation in his stomach was starting to get worse; Yata wasn't sure if he cared any more that he was about to ruin his first date. He narrowed his eyes, leaning forward with a scowl, and opened his mouth to respond with something rude.

Before he could get the words out, someone rushed up to the table from his left and slammed their hands down, knocking over his empty water glass and narrowly missing doing the same to Yatogami's mug, which he managed to salvage at the last second. "Kurosuke!" the person cried out, voice muffled, and Yata recognized one half of the trench coat couple, still with a poorly-positioned fake mustache.

 _What the fuck - ?_

Yatogami's expression was startled, but he seemed to recognize the voice, because his eyes narrowed. Reaching out quickly, he yanked off the fedora and mustache. Long, silvery hair tumbled loose; the owner pouted cutely.

Yata shrank back down in his seat instinctively, feeling his face heat. "A-A w-w-woman...?"

"Neko," Yatogami said, voice low and ominous. He was staring at the woman in the trench coat, looking thoroughly displeased. "What are you doing here?"

"Nnnn! Never mind that!" The woman - Neko? - puffed out her cheeks, leaning over the table again and pointing an insistent finger almost into Yata's nose. "This guy is no good! You should get rid of him right away, Kurosuke!"

Confusion was suddenly stronger than his usual bashfulness. Yata blinked, nearly crossing his eyes to stare at the finger in his face. "H-Hah...?"

Yatogami glanced from him to Neko, looking unimpressed. "Oh? Why do you say that?"

That was enough time for Yata to gather his wits again; he swatted at the hand in his face, trying to will away his blush. "O-Oi, don't just point at people..."

She glowered at him, making an angry noise that sounded strangely like a cat's hiss, and stubborn raised the finger again to continue pointing. "Shiro saw him kissing another boy in the bathroom!" she announced, loudly.

His whole body froze up at that. _Fuck..._

"Neko, calm down!" The new voice was vaguely familiar; Yata recognized the second of the trench coat couple - and the guy who'd walked him on him and Saruhiko, go fucking figure - hastily moving up to stand next to his partner. He reached out to grab the pointing hand and gently pull it back down. "You're attracting too much attention."

She really was, Yata realized, to his complete embarrassment. A quick glance around revealed quite a few people who'd turned to stare at them, probably in reaction to her (stupidly loud) declaration. _You have got to be fucking kidding me..._ He could feel his face burning even hotter, and couldn't help but sputter. "W-Wait - I - i-it's not - h-hold on - "

"I did see him, though, Kuroh," the new man explained earnestly, removing the mustache and hat. His hair was short, and even lighter than the woman's. "Sorry - we didn't come here to interfere or anything! Neko and I wanted to make sure that nothing bad would happen on your date, and I just happened to see it..."

Yatogami looked from him to Neko, and then fixed his eyes on Yata again, frowning. "Is this true, Yata Misaki?"

"Th-That's what I've been trying to explain!" he burst out, suddenly feeling furious despite the embarrassment. He turned his head to glower at the random observers in the coffee shop. "Oi! Mind your own fucking business, why don't you!"

"Kurosuke is Neko and Shiro's Kurosuke!" Neko declared loudly; when he turned, she was still glaring at him. "We have to watch out for him! And kissing other people when you're on a date is _no good!_ "

"Sh-Shut up! I wasn't the one who started it!" Yata shifted in his seat, trying to keep a good distance between her and him. "My fucking roommate ambushed me in there and pushed me into a wall! H-He's a jerk, okay?" Somehow, he felt the need to clarify with, "A-And kind of messed up. Or something. Anyway!" He turned his gaze back on Yatogami, dead serious despite his embarrassment. "I'm not a fucking cheater. There's no way I'd do something like that while on a date."

Yatogami studied him for what felt like a long moment, and then shut his eyes and sighed. He held up his phone, swiping it to unlock and pressing one of the buttons in the app that came up.

 _"Fluttering grass blade  
A small speck in the water  
The current carries it"_

Yata stared at the phone, nonplussed. _Fucking creepy..._ "What the hell does that mean?"

"We all struggle with circumstances beyond our control at times." Yatogami's expression was satisfied as he turned the screen back off, setting his phone down. "I haven't known Ichigen-sama to be wrong yet."

Neko puffed out her cheeks and made a little 'harumph' sound. The other man patted her shoulder with a comforting little smile.

Saved by a fucking recorder. Yata slumped back in his seat, not sure whether to be relieved or disgusted. "Yeah, okay, sure."

Yatogami fixed him with a severe look, crossing his arms again. "Your roommate sounds like a disreputable and untrustworthy person."

"He's not really - " Yata hesitated, caught between the instinctive urge to defend Saruhiko and his own conflicted feelings on the subject. He sighed, scratching at the back of his head with agitation. "Well, yeah, kind of, but it's just - it's really fucking complicated."

"I see." When he met Yatogami's gaze again, he found himself being studied with something like understanding. "I think perhaps you and I have more in common than I first thought, Yata Misaki." His eyes flickered very briefly to the other man standing beside them.

 _I don't really get it, but whatever._ A thought occurred to him then; he shot his date a flat stare. "Hey... are you just going to keep calling me by my full name forever?"

"Ah! Kuroh does that a lot," the other man cut in, cheerily. "You kind of get used to it after a while." He tilted his head when Yata turned to eye him warily, and smiled. "Since we're all here now, should we sit together?" Then he blinked. "Oh! Or did you want to be alone to continue your date?"

Yatogami's eyes met his across the table; the expression on his face was wry. Yata thought back to their previous painfully stilted conversation, and then turned his gaze up at the other two. Neko had apparently lost interest in pouting suspiciously at him, and was busily peering through one end of his forgotten water glass at various spots around the room. The other man returned his look with a bright, almost too innocent smile.

 _Fuck it..._ "Yeah, sure," he grumbled, still feeling put out by the whole business. "Why not?"

It seemed like a fitting way to end this whole disaster, anyway.

* * *

The date - if it could still be called that - lasted for another half an hour before Yatogami announced that he had to get ready for fencing practice, and they all parted ways.

 _Not soon enough._ Yata tossed his skateboard onto the ground with a frustrated sigh, letting his pent-up restlessness fuel him as he hopped on and kicked off. The sting and rush from the wind helped to release some of the tension from earlier; after a minute or two of moving around, his mind finally started to clear up.

He hadn't forgotten that there was still some unfinished business left to deal with, too.

 _Saruhiko..._ Yata frowned to himself, absently flipping from the side of the road up onto the sidewalk. In a way, he kind of just wanted to avoid it all - maybe go hang out at the bar for the rest of the day or something. He was going to have to ask Chitose what the fuck he was thinking when he set up that stupid date. And if he was there, he could push that painful confrontation from before to the back of his mind and just let loose for a bit.

But still...

 _"Only look at me,"_ Saruhiko had said - right before kissing him. And the look on his face... Somehow, Yata couldn't forget it. It bothered him, but he wasn't sure why. It was... almost desperate. Crazed, even.

 _Ugh, all right, whatever._ He was probably going to get mocked for his trouble, but he just had to make sure that idiot was okay. And, anyway, he couldn't avoid the room forever. Eventually, they were going to have to sort this out - at the very least so that they could co-exist until the year was up. _I'll just say I'm changing clothes or something._

That would probably work. It was even kind of true - he did want to get out of the fancy 'date' clothing. So, no big deal, right?

Having that settled in his head eased a little of the anxiety that had formed in his chest. Yata almost wasn't nervous at all as he approached the door to their room.

Almost.

Well, no point putting it off - resisting the urge to hesitate and trying to ignore the way his heart picked up, he reached out to unlock and open the door.

The lights were out; for a second, Yata wasn't sure if Saruhiko was even in there. As his eyes adjusted, though, he caught sight of the familiar thin body curled on the bottom bunk, facing the wall.

 _For real?_ For a moment, he wasn't sure how to react. Yata pushed the door closed behind him, staring at Saruhiko with an odd blend of irritation and concern stirring up inside him. _He's not sick again, is he?_

That thought was enough to break him out of his inactive state. Letting out a half-hearted 'ch', Yata set down his skateboard and stepped away from the entrance for a better look at the figure on his bed. _He still has his glasses on..._

Actually... As he got closer, he could see that Saruhiko wasn't even pretending to sleep. His eyes were open, and he was staring at the wall. Even as Yata became aware of it and his skin prickled up immediately in response, that gaze shifted, turning sideways to look at him.

It was suddenly hard to breathe; Yata swallowed, feeling his shoulders tense up, and struggled to keep his cool. "Oi, Saru..." His voice came out with a kind of half-hearted irritation. "Don't just sleep on my bed, jerk..."

Saruhiko's gaze slid away from him again; he clicked his tongue. "Do you really care?" he mumbled, almost too quietly to be heard.

That lackluster tone of voice was making Yata feel edgy. _What the hell is even happening here?_ He hesitated for a moment, then decided _fuck it_ , and sat down on the thin strip of bed that was left behind his roommate's back, bringing up a knee so that his back faced the headboard and bracing his hand on the mattress. "I don't get you," he admitted, automatically lowering his voice to match the quiet atmosphere. "What the hell is your deal with me, anyway?"

He'd already prepared himself for a sarcastic remark or something insulting, so it was kind of a surprise when Saruhiko just shut his eyes and made a feeble-sounding 'hmph' noise instead.

Yata studied his face in silence for a moment, heart still thudding against his chest as he waited, and then tipped his head back, letting out a frustrated sigh. "You're not fucking fair, Saruhiko," he muttered, clenching his fingers against the bedsheets. "You always call me a dumbass, so you gotta know I can't figure it out myself..." The pained lump was rising again at the back of his throat; he swallowed again, voice rough when he pushed on. "I-It's not like you don't know how I feel. If - If there's something you want from me, then..."

His voice broke. Even as he took a second to collect himself, he could feel the silence stretching between them, tense and strained. "Then... just tell me, goddamnit!"

It was like his outburst was enough to stir up the stale air in the room. Saruhiko pulled in an audible breath, and then abruptly pushed himself up to a sitting position, turning so that his back faced the headboard as well. He kept his head down, face shadowed, eyes still closed behind his glasses. "Misaki," he murmured - just that, and nothing else.

 _So... that means what?_ Yata studied that down-turned face anxiously for clues. It was hard to tell much of anything with the lack of light and the poor angle. "Sa-Saruhiko?" he tried, tentatively.

"Shut up, idiot," Saruhiko mumbled, almost too quietly to be heard. His mouth tightened, as if with pain.

"Yeah, I'm an idiot, all right." Yata frowned, tearing his gaze away, and couldn't help but flash back to when he'd been walking back from the beach, planning out the confession he was going to make after being kissed for the first time ever in his life. His throat clenched up again. "That's why - "

" _Shut up!_ " The unexpected outburst had him jerking his gaze back over; Saruhiko had still not raised his head, but his teeth were clenched. "You're annoying, Misaki," he gritted out, low and dark. "This is why I can't deal with you."

Even after he'd braced himself for it, it still hurt. Yata forced out a soft, half-hearted 'ch' and turned his face again, free hand clenching into a fist in his lap. "Look who's talking," he muttered, struggling to keep his voice under control as painful emotion rose up again in his chest. "Fine." He slid his knee off the bed. "If you really can't stand to be around me, I'll just g - "

All at once, his shoulder was grabbed and he was yanked backwards, hitting the bed with a startled grunt, and then feeling his eyes widen as Saruhiko bent over him, his left hand pushing down on Yata's right shoulder.

 _What the fuck...?_ "Sa - "

"Only," Saruhiko cut him off, and Yata caught the edge of desperation in his voice even as narrowed blue eyes met his, "look at me."

Thoughts of pushing him off stilled. "Saruhiko..."

The expression on his roommate's face seemed to twist up. "Misaki," he responded, breathy and drawn out. His fingers tightened on Yata's shirt, and then he bent forward further, resting his forehead against the opposite shoulder. He was noticeably trembling.

Something fierce and protective sparked in Yata's chest; without stopping to think to hard about it, he reached up and looped his arms around his roommate's shoulders, clenching his own fingers in the fabric beneath his hands as he tightened his hold. Saruhiko's breath was harsh and ragged against his collarbone, but he didn't pull back.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Then, finally, Saruhiko shifted in his hold, mumbling something unintelligible.

"What?" Yata kept his voice low; somehow, it felt like the moment was so fragile it could break any second. He was acting entirely on instinct, not really sure what was happening or why, just driven by a need to drive away that awful expression from earlier. His heart was pounding hard against his chest, and he thought he could feel the rivaling beat from Saruhiko's as well, just above him.

It was the strangest experience, but somehow... he didn't dislike it.

Saruhiko pulled back slowly, just far enough that their eyes could meet, and a prickle of shock went through Yata's entire body as he noticed the unmistakable trail of moisture flooding from under his roommate's glasses and tracking down his face.

 _Saruhiko is... crying?_

As he stared dumbly, unsure quite how to react, Saruhiko reached up with shaky fingers to pull the now-askew pair of glasses from his face, eyes still leaking and tears sliding down along his cheeks and over the sides of his nose even as he set them aside. "Don't... get over me," he muttered, and then turned his gaze to the side, clicking his tongue as if saying the words had somehow used up his quota of not being an anti-social dick. It was hard to tell in the dark, but it kind of looked like he might be blushing, a bit, under all that.

Yata's heart swelled; he could feel the smile building on his face and the sting rising up to blur his own vision, and didn't bother to hold back the rush of emotion that surged within him along with it. "Like I was able to anyway, asshole," he responded, not even caring when his voice cracked at the end, and slid one hand up to the back of Saruhiko's head to pull him down and bring their lips together.

The fingers on his shoulder tightened - with surprise, or some of the same elation he was caught up in himself, he didn't really know - and then Saruhiko's breath hitched against his cheek, and he was suddenly pushing back with unexpected aggression, the wet streaks of his tears smearing between their faces and his mouth warm and responsive as he pressed Yata down against the mattress.

At that point, it was kind of hard to tell which one of them was shaking - maybe they both were. The rush of sudden happiness and pleasure that came with the combination of declaration - well, more like demand, but close enough - and kiss was intense to the point of being overwhelming after the hurt and frustration from earlier. When Saruhiko finally pulled back, tipping his head to rest his forehead against Yata's, it felt like the best moment of his entire life.

 _I don't even fucking care about the last two days - this is worth everything!_

There were about a million things running through his mind right then - questions he wanted to ask, stuff they needed to talk about - but most importantly... Yata took in a breath, and smiled up at Saruhiko's damp but steady gaze even as his stomach fluttered. "I like you," he declared, quiet but confident, "Saruhiko."

The corners of his roommate's mouth edged up; he shut his eyes and made a soft, amused noise. "You don't say."

"Shut up." Yata curled his fingers in that dark hair and tugged lightly. "Don't kill the moment, dick."

"Mm, sorry." There was no apology in the tone at all, but the open contentment in Saruhiko's eyes when he opened them again was enough to make up for it.

Yata freed his fingers and slid both hands around to wipe the remaining dampness from his partner's cheeks. "You still have to say it back, you know."

"I know that." Saruhiko shut his eyes again as Yata's thumbs brushed up under them. His voice was light and unconcerned, but the tremor in it gave him away. A little shudder ran through his body, and then as Yata's motions stilled, he murmured, very quietly, "I... like you. Misaki."

Somehow, the way he said that name made it not sound bad at all. Yata felt heat rising on his cheeks - a shiver stirred up at the pit of his stomach. "Saruhiko..."

The corners of his partner's mouth quirked up again. "Go out with me," he added, without opening his eyes.

"You fucking..." Yata stared at him for a moment, a faint thread of exasperation threading through the good feelings. He surged up, pushing an unresisting Saruhiko off of him and over onto his side, rolling to follow. "I asked you first, damnit!"

Those blue eyes slid open, regarding him from less than a foot away. "So, are you refusing, then?" Despite the teasing, there was a kind of guarded look in them.

"I fucking should, you asshole." A grin was building on his face in response, all the same. "But whatever. Yeah, I'll date you, fuckhead - you can relax." He reached out impulsively to grasp Saruhiko's upturned hand in his own, feeling a little rush of warmth from the contact.

Slender fingers curled almost hesitantly against his, and Yata closed his eyes, savoring it.

* * *

Thinking rationally was a surprisingly difficult concept with Misaki's hand clutching his and Misaki's face just a short distance away, with that smile on his face like he was happier than he'd ever been. Misaki's eyes slid open and the open affection in them nearly took Fushimi's breath away.

This time, the answering pleasure in his own body was enough to drown out that thin, increasingly hollow cry of panic at the back of his head.

 _He didn't leave._ Misaki was here; Misaki hadn't pushed him away, even after Fushimi had done everything he could to destroy whatever was between them. Somehow, Misaki's hands were stronger; Misaki continued to hold on, and endure, clinging to Fushimi as if he was worth fighting for. Misaki's arms had opened for him, and falling into them had felt like the only thing he could do.

He couldn't even remember the last time he'd cried, before this.

It was kind of annoying, really, but that couldn't be helped. He remembered the feel of Misaki's fingers on his face, surprisingly gentle despite his rough attitude - or maybe not so surprising; Fushimi had been taken care of by him before, so he knew - wiping off the traces of tears, like it was all just that simple. Like he could wipe off the bad feelings and leave everything fresh and new.

 _Stupid._ There wasn't any bitterness in that thought, though.

"So..." Misaki's voice broke the comfortable silence that had fallen between them. He had a sort of wry smile on his face. "You gonna tell me what the last two days were about, or what?"

The question was enough to pull up the more familiar strand of irritation. Fushimi clicked his tongue, frowning down at their joined hands to avoid that straightforward gaze. "Do we have to talk about that now?"

"Yeah." The answer came without any hesitation - but it didn't have resentment behind it either. Misaki's fingers tightened around his. "I get that you're not that great with all this 'feelings' crap and all - but y'know, sometimes there's gonna be shit we gotta talk about."

It was hard to deny the logic behind his words. Fushimi shut his eyes, momentarily blocking out the conversation. "You wouldn't understand," he mumbled - a last, sullen attempt to delay the inevitable.

"Yeah? Try me." There was a note of stubborn obstinace in Misaki's voice, like he thought he might have to fight for this. "I went through hell because of you, and yeah, I forgive you and all, but seriously, you need to fucking tell me _why_."

There it was; if he wanted to seize this chance - if he really wanted Misaki in his life - this was the unpleasant task that had to be done. And he couldn't delude himself; something like this would no doubt come up again. It would be a series of repeats - uncomfortable moments of vulnerability scheduled at irregular but all-too-frequent intervals for the foreseeable future.

And, if he was lucky, the unforeseeable future as well.

 _"My recommendation would be to find the choice that would leave you with the least regrets."_

At this point, it was clear what that choice needed to be. Fushimi clicked his tongue again, and then released his breath in a long, agitated sigh. "I never intended to fall for you," he muttered reluctantly, opening his eyes again to stare at their hands again. Misaki's fingers were shorter than his, but they seemed to have more strength. "It was... I miscalculated."

He could hear the slight hitch in Misaki's breath, but he didn't interrupt.

"It's not something you'd understand." He'd come to terms with not being 'normal' a long time ago, and barely thought of it now. It wasn't like he wanted anyone's pity - least of all Misaki's. "There's no such thing as permanence in this world. I don't want things that can be easily broken or lost."

 _I don't want to reach for something when everything I value ends up breaking in the end._

There was a pause between them; he could feel Misaki's eyes on him, and heard the even rhythm of his breathing. "Yeah," he said, after that moment passed, "I don't really get it. If you think about that kind of shit all the time, you'll never be happy. I can't get that kind of thinking, you know?" He sighed, sounding almost exasperated. "But whatever. That's actually perfect, if you think about it."

That statement was confusing enough to have him lifting his gaze again, meeting Misaki's determined gaze with bafflement. "What?"

"You said there's no permanent things, right? They all break, or whatever." Misaki smirked at him, eyebrows coming down with a kind of obnoxious confidence. "If that's how it is, all you need is one thing that doesn't break, and then you're set. Right?"

The brazen simplicity of it caught him completely off-guard; Fushimi blinked several times, and then frowned, perturbed. "You can't just - "

"Hah? What the hell do you know about what I can't do?" Misaki squirmed so that the arm tucked under his body was freed, and curled it into a fist, pointing his thumb out at his chest with reckless certainty. "Just go ahead and try to break me, _Saru_. You already tried once, and I'm still here, aren't I?"

There was no denying the truth of that. Fushimi narrowed his eyes, rational thought already working to refute it just the same. There were so many things that could happen - accidents, fights, interference from forces outside their control. The human body was astonishingly fragile. Human life was fleeting. Human relationships were complicated, and easily torn apart. He knew all of that, and yet...

Still, something in him wanted to believe in that simple logic, wholeheartedly.

Fushimi clicked his tongue, turning his gaze aside. "Do whatever you want."

"Heh." Misaki sounded insufferably pleased with himself - but when Fushimi turned his eyes back, cautiously, he found that he was being regarded with that same open affection from before. "Of course I will! Just watch me, Saruhiko!"

It was addicting, the way that look could make him feel. Fushimi tightened his hold on Misaki's hand, just a bit.

Even if it was going to break in the future, at least for now... if he could feel like this...

 _It's good right now._

"Hey, Saru..." Misaki's voice broke through the quiet moment again. He was frowning thoughtfully. "What do you think of 'World Conflict'?"

Fushimi stared at him, feeling his eyebrows furrow. "What are you talking about?"

"The title - you know, for our game?" Misaki abruptly grinned, looking undeservedly smug. "'World Conflict'. Cool, huh?"

 _Why are you thinking about that right now?_ Fushimi clicked his tongue. "How does that have anything to do with skateboarding?"

"It's not about skateboarding - it's about us." He scooted forward to press his forehead against Fushimi's again, squeezing his hand. "Our two worlds, conflicting - that's us, isn't it?"

The new point of contact had warmth spreading out through his body again. Fushimi stared back for a moment, not quite sure how to react. _Trust Misaki to come up with something like this..._

He didn't really feel like being one-upped, though. Sliding his free hand up, he cupped the side of Misaki's face, hesitating a little as he processed the unfamiliar and slightly awkward feel of someone else's cheek against his fingers.

The reaction was immediate and very satisfying - Misaki blinked at him, startled, and then the faint edge of a flush started under his fingers. Fushimi could feel the warmth radiating from it, which was odd but not unwelcome. "Sa-Saruhiko..."

"Misaki," he murmured, and then let the smirk edge its way onto his face. "I knew you'd come up with something lame."

"Geh - " Misaki sputtered, his eyes flashing with sudden, embarrassed indignation. "I-It's not lame, damnit!"

 _As expected... Misaki's reactions are always the best._ "If you say so." To top off his victory, Fushimi leaned in further and swallowed the remaining protests with a kiss.

This kind of thing... It probably was worth the risk, in the end.

* * *

"I'm done." Fushimi pushed back his chair, plucking the flash drive from his work computer with his completed exercise sheets. "Should I make copies now, or did you want to look them over?"

"Hm? I think you can leave them for now." Munakata looked up from his own work, setting his pen down. "I don't believe I need to look them over - I trust your work - but it's the end of your shift. Seminars don't begin until Thursday, so you can make copies on your Wednesday shift."

Around this time last semester, he probably would've ignored that and printed them anyway. This time... "Got it." Fushimi set the papers back down on his desk, reaching for his bag instead.

It wasn't like he had plans, exactly - not anything on a schedule, at least - but Misaki had started up his evening shifts at the cafeteria now that the semester had begun, and there was only so much time before the dinnertime rush showed up. After not seeing each other all day, he would prefer to get the most out of that.

Even though they were going to see each other at night, anyway... _I don't feel like waiting._

With only a little less than a month of dating experience, he was still adjusting. It wasn't like his feelings had changed - other than his awareness of them - but... circumstances were different. Casual touches and kissing and eyes meeting across the table during meals... Honestly, it was embarrassing. And ridiculous.

And disturbingly addicting.

"Oh, one thing before you leave, Fushimi-kun." Munakata stood smoothly as he was adjusting his bag over his shoulder, stepping across the room to meet him. "That is, if you can spare a moment?"

Fushimi paused, then raised his eyes warily. "What for?"

"A question." His boss smiled, un-rattled as always. "I don't expect an immediate answer. I thought it might be best to ask at the end of the shift so you had some time to think it over."

The wording of that was even more suspicious. Fushimi frowned. He still hadn't forgotten his mistake with the contract. "I'm listening."

Honestly, listening to questions wasn't so bad; he could always refuse to answer if it was too uncomfortable. Misaki had wanted to know about his past; understandable, probably, given the way he'd acted and what it likely said about him, but there were things he didn't particularly want to think about, much less discuss. It was in the past, and Fushimi preferred it to stay that way - the less said about it, the better.

Misaki hadn't pushed. _"If you feel like telling me some day, I'll want to hear it,"_ he'd said instead.

Fushimi had been unconvinced at the time. _"And if I never do?"_

 _"Then, whatever - as long as you don't expect me to figure it out. I'm not good at that crap, remember?"_

After that, they'd changed the subject, but the question still lingered at the back of his mind. The past was the past, and it couldn't be changed - talking about it wouldn't help. It was bothersome to be pitied or fussed over. But, even though it might be too early to say... he couldn't help but think...

There might be a time - some unknown point in the future - when he would want Misaki to know.

"I've observed for some time that the technology in use by the security team is woefully outdated," Munakata remarked, studying his face keenly. "Their maintenance is, of course, excellent - the main problem I've seen is that there doesn't seem to be a lot of innovative thought put into any kind of custom work that could be employed." He tilted his head. "I had tentatively broached the subject of an IT lead on the team with Awashima, and she seemed receptive."

Fushimi stared at him. He would have to be an idiot not to see where this was going, of course. "And?"

Munakata's smile didn't falter. "I've also felt over the course of the past semester that a TA position is most certainly an underuse of your talents. Of course, if you wish to continue past our negotiated contract, I've no objections, but I thought perhaps the new job opening might be a more interesting challenge for you."

 _In other words, you had that in mind from the time you asked me to work for you._ It was irritating to be manipulated with such ease - although it probably couldn't be helped. Fushimi frowned to himself.

 _Working with the security team, huh?_ There were probably a few things he could think of to implement that would be an improvement - and it was true that it would probably be interesting. Besides that... He thought back to Hidaka's eager, hopeful offers; Akiyama's patient but steady work; Awashima's efficient mannerisms, even as she offered him a cheap straw hat to protect his head from the heat. And then the rest of the team, all playing the game he'd created - for no other reason than because he'd done it.

It... wasn't totally unappealing.

Still, he wasn't about to make a decision like that right away. "I'll think about it."

"Of course." Munakata nodded, as if that was what he'd expected, and half-turned, adding, "Give my regards to Yata-kun."

"Mm," Fushimi responded vaguely, intending to do no such thing. Unless Misaki said something to annoy him, of course. "See you Wednesday."

"Take care."

It hadn't been his idea to tell anyone about his relationship with Misaki, although he didn't particularly care about keeping it a secret. Actually, he was fairly certain Misaki hadn't intended it to go so far, either. Totsuka, as it turned out, had a big mouth and no filter whatsoever - so, on the Sunday after they'd started dating, Fushimi had walked into the security team's base and found himself the focus of just about everyone there. After that, Munakata had begun the meeting with a public congratulations, and Fushimi's mood had gone from irritable to downright foul within the span of about thirty seconds.

Admittedly, after he'd given it some time, it was useful to have the whole thing out in the open without having to say anything. He would prefer to die before ever acknowledging that fact out loud, though. His boss didn't need the encouragement.

The weather outside was still fairly warm, although the placement of the sun made it clear that the days were growing shorter. Fushimi pulled out his phone and checked the messages - as expected, there was a new one.

 **Yata Misaki:** its borin as hell here when did u say ur off? 1

 _What a smooth talker._ Fushimi raised his eyebrows, but he could feel the smile building even as he moved to type a response.

 **You:** I'm not your evening entertainment.

Within seconds of hitting send, he had a response.

 **Yata Misaki:** so sayin smthng means ur off rite? 2

And, almost as soon as he'd finished reading that one, another joined it.

 **Yata Misaki:** u comin or wat? 3

The cafeteria was right in front of him by then, so there was no need to respond. Fushimi slid his phone back into his pocket, not bothering to push back the rush of anticipation, and moved forward to push through the doors that would lead him into the building, and to Misaki's waiting smile.

 **The End**

1 It's boring as hell here. When did you say you're off?  
2 So, saying something means you're off, right?  
2 You coming, or what?

 **Note:** There will be a one-shot sequel to this fanfic, but because it's above the rating allowed for this website, it won't be posted here. If you are interested, please check my personal website, my tumblr, or my AO3 (all are listed on my profile). Thank you for reading this fic, and I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
